


On Distant Shores

by mearcats



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship/Love, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Viking AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6274951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mearcats/pseuds/mearcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sail of the longship with its dragon head prow strikes fear into the heart of Killian and the other monks at Iona. Taken back to the land of the Vikings, he meets the noble shieldmaiden Emma. The winds of fate and chance steer them places they could not have dreamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> The story began with a T rating but escalates to an E rating. The first couple of chapters aren't that long, but expect them to get longer as we go. 
> 
> I'm SO thankful for my beta, Odette, who helped shape this into something much better.

_July, 795 AD_

 

Killian smiled as he left the chapel. Morning prayers had left him feeling peaceful and energized, ready for the day ahead of him. He had enjoyed his readings and was now looking forward to a few hours at the forge.

Iona was certainly lovely today. The sky was blue and cloudless, the breeze keeping it pleasant on the small island. Days like this reminded him how fond he was of this little bit of land with its rocky hills and beautiful sea views.

He hadn’t always been so keen on the isle. He’d been shipped out here as a grieving youth, upset at the loss of his father and at being separated from his brother. The abrupt changes in his life had made him a surly lad. From his station to his vocation, from the halls of a chieftain of Dál Riata to the hallowed walls of the monastery on a secluded island— that had been quite the shift. The transition from his position as son of the chief and brother of its heir to being trained as a blacksmith and monk had been even more of one.

With Abbot Bresal’s steadying influence and Brother Colum’s gentle instruction (both at the smithy and in dealing with the Holy Scriptures), he’d found a measure of contentment here. He could channel his strength into creating useful things, things to help the monastery run smoothly. Sometimes he even took a commission from the mainland, when the blacksmith at Ballycastle was too busy. Naturally, the proceeds went to the abbey.

As it was, a few of his brethren had begun work on a new illuminated manuscript in honor of St. Columba’s passing 200 years before. Killian had glimpsed a few of the pages in the scriptorium, and they were truly marvelous. They would be a fitting tribute to the saint to whom the book would be dedicated. Their reverence and care, he hoped, would find favor in God’s eyes.

Stepping up to the forge, he tied his apron around his cowl. Today’s agenda was full of repairs — hinges, horseshoes, and the like. There were times he loved such days, when he could let his mind wander. As he heated the iron he was going to work with, he found his thoughts drifting to his brother. He hadn’t had a letter from Liam in some months, though that wasn’t necessarily unusual. Sometimes nearly a year would go by before they could get word to each other. 

Killian hadn’t seen his brother since they’d parted ways all those years ago. He’d been a lad of eleven, and Liam had been seventeen. A grin curved his lips when he recalled how proud his brother had been. Liam had  just earned his rank as a warrior, and he’d peacocked around, thrilled at all the attention he’d gotten from the lasses. He’d stood tall and strong, curly hair and impish eyes drawing a smile from all who met him. A true scion of chieftains.

The memory of what had happened and the exertion of his task in the heat of  the smithy turned his smile into more of a grimace. Shortly after Liam had shown himself to be a man among their people, their father had died. It soon became clear that their father had been a poor leader, and their clan had no money left. Ballycastle’s warriors had, for the most part, become so discontented that they were ready to overthrow Brennan. He had died before they could do so, but it was obvious to many that they wouldn’t accept the green young warrior Liam as their liege, no matter his illustrious heritage. He simply didn’t have the experience or backing to be chieftain. 

A distant cousin of their father had quickly claimed authority over their people. He was not a cruel man, but nor was he stupid. He knew that keeping Liam and Killian around was begging for trouble and insubordination. If not imminently, then in a few years when both would be strong, grown men. He’d found a solution, though — Liam had been sent to live at the court of an Irish chieftain farther south, and Killian was sent to Iona (along with a generous donation).

In the seventeen years since, they’d been able to communicate reliably if not frequently. Liam had risen to become one of the most trusted warriors and advisers in the service of the Ui Neill. Unless he was involved in more regular skirmishing, messages usually arrived a couple of times per year. Killian prayed that his brother was well and that there was no sinister reason he hadn’t heard anything in almost a year.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, attempting to shake off the melancholy that had fallen over him. Just then, shouts rang out — was that Brother Jacob? — across the island. Killian ran outside his small outbuilding to see what the commotion was about. When his eyes fell on the shore, dread and bile rose in his stomach. 

Sails had been spotted on the horizon, dragon-shaped prows visible in the distance.

The Northmen were coming.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vikings arrive to raid Iona. What will become of monk blacksmith Killian?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank you to my beta, Odette! And thank YOU for reading (and commenting, I hope!).
> 
> If I include words from another language, I'll provide a translation in the notes at the bottom. If you think another way would work better, let me know!

Killian stood paralyzed with fear while frantic activity erupted around him. Yelling and disorienting screams rose around him. He was quaking in his boots, stuck in his spot, staring out at the two longships drawing closer.

Nearly every soul from Dál Riata to Wessex knew of the vicious sea raiders, the Vikings. And holy men knew better than most, as religious centers were often the focus of attacks. The monasteries of the Anglo-Saxons, the Scots, and the Irish had been spared until two years before, when the peace of Lindisfarne had been broken one morning. The Northmen descended upon them, taking the treasures of the abbey and desecrating the Holy Island by spilling the blood of many of the brothers there.

Brother Jacob, one of the older monks, finally shook Killian out of his stupor. “Killian! We need to get to work. You’re one of the strongest of the brothers, so I need you to make sure that the Abbot is safely hidden. As soon as you’ve done that, hide yourself!” His urgent instructions finally spurred the younger man into action.

“What about you? You should get to safety too.”

“I have to hide manuscript, dear boy. God’s word is the greatest treasure, and you know the Northmen are not known to appreciate finely crafted pieces of vellum,” he said with a small, wan smile.

“I-I-”

“Go, Killian. Find your courage and your faith in the Almighty. All will be well, you’ll see.” At that, they turned and ran, Killian toward the chapter-house to find Father Bresal, and Jacob toward the scriptorium to retrieve the manuscript.

Finding the elderly abbot in the hallway, Killian hurried to help him hide. “Father, we must go. We need to make sure you’re safe, sir.”

The older man looked at him with compassion. “I’m old, Killian. I am not the priority.”

“Father, you know this place, you’ve saved so many of us...we need you here, alive and well,” he pleaded.

For a moment, Bresal could see the small, gangly boy who’d been brought here almost two decades before. “Very well, then. Hide me somewhere. Then hide yourself. You and the younger brothers — you are the future.”

Killian’s mind raced. Finally, he lifted the abbot in his arms and carried him to the privy. “I’m sorry, but this is the only place I can think of that they might not want to come.”

Bresal waved his hand. “All men shit, and all men die. I am no different.” He paused for a second before grabbing the younger man’s arm. “Killian, you have a future. Maybe not here, not forever — but always remember to trust to hope. You will not be alone, my boy. Now go. Be safe.”

Killian hesitated a moment before running back to the smithy. Stepping inside, he noticed that someone had quenched the fire. The place was dark and full of shadows, an ideal place to wait out the raid and hopefully avoid the notice of the invaders. Tucking himself into a corner, he attempted to meditate on the words of Saint Timothy, “ _Non enim dedit nobis Deus spiritum timoris; sed virtutis, et dilectionis, et sobrietatis_.” He repeated it over and over again, praying to gain some semblance of courage from the words.

He had very nearly succeeded in spite of the screams and anguish coming in from outside, when he heard someone stumble into the small building. He started and stared in horror at the doorway.

“Killian...” The older monk managed to say hoarsely before gesturing toward the forge before collapsing.

Killian ran over to Brother Jacob as he fell forward onto the ground. Blood poured from his wound, darkening the older man’s back. Rage, desperation, and fear coiled in his stomach, and he heard someone sobbing.

Then he realized the sounds were coming from his own throat.

He pulled himself to his feet, turning to the corner, where he emptied the contents of his stomach. He took deep, heaving breaths as tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes. When he managed to compose himself a few minutes later, he scanned the room until he spotted his largest hammer.

Killian grasped the hammer, ready to make his way to the smith’s entry when two burly Vikings burst in. One was smaller, with brown hair and eyes, and a cruel smile twisting his lips. The other was the tallest man Killian had ever laid eyes upon. He hefted the tool over his head and charged the closer of the two. Yelling at them in their own tongue, his hammer met the iron of the shorter’s _sax_. “You’ve killed my brothers!”

The man laughed. “And now I’ll kill you, too.” He pushed Killian’s hammer aside and made ready to pull his sword back. Before the man could succeed in plunging the blade between his ribs, Killian saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The giant of a man raised his shield, and then he saw black.

\---

Killian came to, groaning loudly as he clutched his head. Struggling to remember what had happened to him, he sat up quickly. He fell over as the ground pitched…

It wasn’t the ground. It was the deck of a longship. Pulling himself to his knees, he shakily stood up. His stomach dropped as he watched Iona, the monastery — his entire life — fading into the distance behind them. He turned in the other direction.

All that met his eyes was the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Latin scripture Killian quotes is 2 Timothy 1:7 from the Vulgate, which is what I imagine they would have read in monasteries around then. In English it’s “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of love, and of a sound mind.” Or some variant thereof. 
> 
> Sax: Short sword used in the earlier part of the Viking age. One-handed, cruder blade usually.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian's voyage back to the land of the Vikings...where he meets someone who will change his life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to my beta, Odette, and to Rebecca for the lovely banner I have on tumblr!

His stomach was heaving, and not entirely from the motion of the ship. In spite of the choppy waves, they were enjoying a fairly smooth voyage. No, Killian’s discomfort had more to do with finding himself unexpectedly...alive. Alive and in the process of being carted off to some Northern kingdom, that is. At some point, someone had bound his hands, and he imagined he’d been searched for hidden weapons. He struggled to pull himself together, though he was practically shaking.

“You should sit down.” The speaker, the large warrior who had knocked him out, pointed to a row of barrels near the rear of the ship.

Killian did as his captor suggested. The other man walked away, returning with a skin of some beverage that he pressed into Killian’s hands. 

He took it and drank. _Ah, fresh water._ After a moment, he looked up at the other man. “Thank you.” 

For some reason, the larger man put Killian at ease. After all, he had not only not killed him when he had the chance, but he’d protected him from one of his fellow warriors who had been intent on doing so. In spite of the Viking’s stature, he seemed almost...friendly. Disinclined to murder him, at least.

The giant warrior came and sat beside him on a barrel. “I’m Tiny.”

Killian shot him an oblique glance. “Respectfully, no, you most definitely are not.”

He laughed. “People call me Tiny. My name is Anton, but I haven’t been called that by anyone since my parents were alive.”

“Well, Tiny, I’m Killian.” 

“Killian. You folk have such strange names.”

“I suppose we might.”

The two sat in silence a few minutes more before Killian spoke, “Why didn’t you kill me?”

The large man shrugged. “I don’t much like killing. I try to avoid it when I can. Besides, you’re more valuable alive than dead.”

That was puzzling. “How? I can’t be ransomed for much, if at all.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re a blacksmith and you speak our language. My jarl just lost our blacksmith, and the blacksmith’s son died a couple winters ago. You’re strong and young enough.”

Killian sighed. “So I’m to be a slave?” 

“Yeah. Probably not for long though, if your work is good. We really need you to teach someone. I don’t know what the jarl will say for certain, but I doubt your life will be any harder than it was on that island.”

“Is your jarl a kind man?”

“No.” Tiny smirked. 

“Well, at least you’re blunt.”

“Ha! The jarl isn’t a kind _man_. Our jarl is a woman. Or a boy, depending on how you look at it.”

“A...a woman?” 

“Yeah. Emma is the lady of the land. Her son is still too young to rule.”

“And what of her husband?” Killian was intrigued; he had never met a woman who was in charge of men, of everything around her.

“That would be Lord Neal. He died some eight years ago. Lady Emma is a good sort. She’s the daughter of another jarl.”

If his fate lay in the Northern lands, he wanted to know more. “How many jarls are there in your land?”

Tiny scratched his head. “I’m not sure how many total, but each of the four longships that set sail belongs to a jarl in the alliance we have now. Those are the four I know.”

“And your Lady Emma is one. What more can you tell me of her character? And of the others?” 

“Well, Emma is one. Her parents, David and and Snow, are co-rulers of another, and a woman named Regina owns the farthest one. The jarl of the biggest of lands is Rumplestiltskin, though it wasn’t his land until about twenty years ago.”

“How did that come about?”

“The land used to be in the hands of the jarl Sigurd and his wife Gerda. They had two daughters, Elsa and Anna. Odd things began happening with the weather, and someone began spreading rumors that the oldest of the girls, Elsa, was a witch. They wanted to find out what she really was, and if they could control her powers. So they embarked to see a wise man, a priest they’d heard of -- Rumplestiltskin. On the way to see him, they were waylaid and killed. Rumplestiltskin had men nearby, and they were on the main longhouse of Arendelle before you could blink. They said that since Rumplestiltskin had been willing to help with Elsa, it was best for him to rule, to help her cultivate her powers until she was old enough.” 

“And did something happen to this Elsa? You said this was nigh on two decades ago. Shouldn’t she be in charge?”

Tiny hesitated. “Elsa is alive and well. Actually, she lives with Lady Emma and little Lord Henry. She and her sister ended up growing up alongside Emma, raised by Snow and David. When Lady Emma begged to marry Lord Neal — who is Rumplestiltskin’s son, by the way, Elsa went with her.” 

“That sounds...complex and confusing. So this Rumplestiltskin is the father of the Lady Emma’s late husband? Were the lands they now inhabit once his?” 

“The family ties are definitely a bit convoluted, as you’ll learn, Killian. Rumplestiltskin was married to a lady named Milah, who had her own lands. They had Neal, but Lady Milah divorced her husband when Neal was around ten. She died in an accident a few years later, and all of her property went to her son. Some have speculated that her death wasn’t quite as accidental as it seemed.” 

Killian looked up at the stars overhead. The land he was bound for sounded interesting at any rate. “This Rumplestiltskin sounds like he might not be entirely honorable.” 

Scandalized, Tiny shushed him. “He’s a dangerous man. This crew is loyal to Emma, but you never know what can happen.”

He opened his mouth to question what could possibly happen out here, but the caution and fear on the other man’s face made him think twice. 

Tiny yawned. “It’s late. You should go to sleep. We still have a few days’ sailing before we get home again. 

“I have a couple more questions, th-”

The larger man waved a hand to cut him off. “Tomorrow or the next day you can ask more. But you really should rest while you can.” He handed Killian a coarse woolen blanket and gestured to a place he could go to sleep. 

Killian wrapped himself up and tucked himself into corner Tiny had pointed out. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fall asleep with his mind racing the way it was, but it took only a couple moments for his eyelids to droop and for him to drift off.

\--- 

When it became clear over the next couple of days to his Viking captors that Killian had no intention of becoming violent or attempting to jump ship, they released him from his bonds. He even helped out on the ship, earning grudging nods of respect from the crew (especially when they saw he didn’t struggle with sea sickness). 

The day before they arrived, Killian finally had a chance to talk to Tiny again. He’d been otherwise occupied, and Killian hadn’t wanted to bother him. But the man finally seemed to have a free minute, and he brought some ale over to share. “We’re making good time. We should be there by tomorrow.” 

“I’m sure that it’ll be pleasant for you. Do you have a family you’re getting back to?” 

Tiny shrugged. “I have lots of brothers. I’m mostly excited about getting back to my farm.” 

“A farm? So you don’t live in the main...longhouse, is it?” 

“Nope. I have a little place of my own. I spend a lot of time up there, but during the summer I usually have to go do raids.” 

“Ah. Well, you certainly have an imposing physical presence.”

“Emma doesn’t like us to kill if we can help it. Raiding is our way, but death doesn’t have to be. Not the death of innocents, at any rate.” 

Killian sat silently for a moment before he quirked an eyebrow at the other man. “Then who are those who killed some of my brothers at the monastery? The fellow who was trying to kill me, for example.”

“Oh, he’s one of Rumplestiltskin’s people. Very unpleasant fellow. We had a big raiding party this year, so we had to take four ships.” 

“I only saw two.”

“The other two — the ones that belong to Regina and David and Snow — they went to another island monastery like yours. Ratlin?”

“Rathlin? Oh. Are they o-” Killian cut himself off, realizing his idea of wellness for his fellow monks might be different from that of the Northmen. He wasn’t really sure he wanted to know. He’d have to trust that they were in God’s hands now. 

Tiny didn’t seem to notice Killian’s interjection. “How did you learn Norse, anyway?”

Killian paused. “Well, most of us monks train to travel and spread our God’s truth. Learning the language of the places we are needed is generally beneficial. Especially after Lindisfarne, we thought it was important. A Norse woman came to stay nearby. She taught those of us with the inclination.”

“So you’re pretty good with languages, huh?”

“I’ve been told I am.” 

Tiny smiled. “Seems like it. And good thing for you, though I’m not sure you all would have much success spreading your religion. Your god doesn’t make much sense to our people. We have our own ways.”

A lump rose in Killian’s throat. “Will I be allowed to worship my God? Such as I can?”

The giant of a man considered it. “I don’t see why not, as long as you don’t try to convert anyone. I think it _will_ be harder for you, but that’s because you’ll be around all new circumstances, ones you’ve probably never faced before.” 

With a feeling a foreboding, Killian turned to face the sea. He grasped his rosary in his fingers, praying for the strength to face the challenges ahead of him.

\---

The next day, Killian caught his breath as the longship pulled into a fjord. Ever since they’d laid eyes on the coastline, he’d been silent, staring at the beauty before him. He felt anxiety swelling in his chest, despite the beauty of the rocky hills covered in green foliage juxtaposed with deep blue waters . Soon they would land — he could even see the settlement they were bound for in the distance — and his life would change forever. He knew very little of the path ahead, except that it seemed to be leading away from everything he’d become.

Soon, they were at the shore. The men aboard yelled instructions for docking, excitement and relief coloring their voices. The dock was crowded with men, women, and children, undoubtedly the family of the raiders. Tiny bumped his arm, pointing out a huddle of other impossibly tall men who could only be his brothers. Many of them were accompanied by slightly smaller women, and a few had children (who still seemed tall in Killian’s eyes).

The crew were jumping out of the boat, many running to embrace and kiss sweethearts, children, and friends. Killian was unsure of what he was supposed to do, so he stood in his place until Tiny grabbed his arm and all but hauled him out of the longship onto the dock. He watched as the man greeted his family, then he came back and shouted, “I have a delivery for Lady Emma!” Then Killian was pulled through the crowd.

Given the height of some of the people, he wasn’t really able to see where he was being taken. He simply focused on keeping his feet as they followed what seemed to be a path up to the longhouse. Suddenly, they stopped abruptly. Killian looked up, and he found himself staring into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. His jaw dropped a little, and in the dim recesses of his mind, he was aware that he was looking at quite possibly the most beautiful woman in the world.

She was staring up at him, seemingly as fascinated as he. He shook his head a little, ready to apologize to her for his rudeness. Tiny bowed beside him and then grinned at the woman. “Lady Emma, I found you a blacksmith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After watching the Brothers Jones, I'm even more excited to write Liam again...in like 10 chapters!


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian finds this new land and its jarl unsettling, but he begins to adjust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to my beta, Odette. And thank you all for your patience during my off-week! Your kudos and comments mean so much to me.

Killian watched as Emma shook her head, quickly transforming into the composed lady he had assumed she would be. He took a moment to collect himself, his utter stupefaction at her loveliness having rendered him speechless.

Lady Emma turned to Anton. “You found a blacksmith? How? Where? He’s not one of our people.”

“Bjorn is dead, and we have no one else here. He can at least help train someone else. Besides, he speaks our tongue.”

She looked him over, suspicion and interest warring in her eyes. “What’s your name, then?”

“Killian, my lady.” He bobbed his head awkwardly, trying for deference and landing somewhere near bumbling.

She raised an eyebrow at him, and Tiny had the good grace to attempt to hide his smirk. Emma finally nodded. “We’ll see how you do.” Pausing, she added, “The day after tomorrow, though, for tonight we feast!”

“Er, why not tomorrow?” He wasn’t truly that eager to begin working again, but he had to say something to Emma. Anything would do, really.

Alas, she had turned away. Tiny rested a giant hand on Killian’s shoulder and patted. “Tomorrow all our skulls will be pounding as though Thor himself were at work with his hammer. Besides, you should enjoy the feasting and chance to rest before you start working again.”

Killian slumped a little. “Which one of your gods is Thor?”

“Oh, you’ll like him! He’s the god of thunder, and he wields a mighty hammer, Mjölnir. He’s the patron of blacksmiths. Very strong.”

“Wonderful.” He followed Anton up the path to the longhouse, trying to keep his mind off thoughts of gods and beautiful women.

\---

The hall was bustling with activity as everyone prepared for the evening’s festivities. Servants and thralls were frantically cleaning and cooking, men and women scrambling around the longhouse. Killian stood about, feeling helpless and lost. He had no idea if he was supposed to be helping, and if so, how. Tiny had gone off to spend some time with his family, and he was unsure who else to ask about what was expected of him at the moment.

He was startled out of his befuddlement by Emma. “Killian, was it? You need to go bathe. When you’re done, there are clothes for you here.”

Killian reddened. “Bathe, my lady?”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Yes, bathe. You can go to the stream or you can use the bath house.” Still seeing a dumbfounded look on his face, she elaborated. “You know, bathing? Using water and soap to remove the dirt and filth from your body? Is that not done where you’re from?”

He cleared his throat. “It is done, but infrequently. And my cowl isn’t designed to be made wet.”

Emma blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “Why would you be wearing your robe while you bathe? This isn’t the time for laundering clothing.”

Scratching his ear and lowering his head, he tried to continue in spite of his embarrassment. “Then what do you wear while bathing? It-it’s unseemly to be naked in the presence of others…”

“Gods help me. Killian, this is how it’s done here. No one will fault you or stare at you. You’ll get more attention attempting to clean yourself while clad in all that fabric.”

Killian was mortified. He hadn’t been naked around anyone in almost twenty years, and now he was supposed to bare himself in front of strangers? Strangers who were his people’s enemies, even.

“Smee!” Emma’s voice rang out clearly, “Take Killian, the newest addition to the household, down to the stream to bathe. Shave his head, make sure he cleans himself properly and that no one scares him by peeping.” This last was said with a bit of an eye roll. She stalked off to talk to another woman, this one taller and paler but around the same age.

The short, rotund man approached him. “Follow me. I’m Smee, and I’ll keep you safe from scrutiny.”

“Do you always speak in rhyming verse?” Killian queried.

The smaller man laughed, then gestured to the pile of clothing that the Lady Emma had left. “No. I’m just trying to warm up for the tale I’ll recite this evening. And you should grab those clothes.”

Killian followed the smaller man out of the longhouse. A well-beaten path led beyond the various outbuildings. When they reached the stream, Smee led him through the underbrush to a flat area off the path. He looked at him questioningly, an eyebrow raised. “This is off the path?”

“Well, yes. If I took you to the main area, you’d be surrounded by other people bathing. Naked. What do you have against nudity, anyway?”

He laughed a little. “I’m not opposed to nudity when I’m by myself, but the sexes should not see each other when naked. Lust will enflame them.”

Smee looked uncertain. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Lust has no place in a godly relationship,” Killian tried to sound sure, he really did. He didn’t want to endanger himself by proselytizing in a hostile environment, but he’d only been in this strange land for a few hours and his head was spinning already with how _different_ everything was.

Smee snorted and pulled out his shears. He motioned for Killian to lower himself to make it easier to cut his hair. A few minutes later, Killian’s head was shorn, his monastic tonsure no more. “This isn’t your god’s land, and the sooner you learn that, the easier your life will be. Now take off that giant sack you seem to be wearing and get in the water. Here’s soap.” The other man turned away from him, seemingly intent on giving him his privacy.

Killian removed his cowl and yelped as he stepped into the cold, clear water. It certainly was refreshing. Making sure he didn’t slip on the rocks, he hurriedly washed himself from head to toe. It did feel good to remove the grime of the sea voyage, and clean clothes always felt better with a bath. Dripping as he exited the stream he shuffled toward the pile of clothing.

Smee stopped whistling. “Lady Emma always makes sure even the least of us has good quality, comfortable clothing. We’ve got some linen things for you here. Trousers, an undertunic, and a tunic. You’ll want to hold onto your boots that you had arriving here, and we can probably modify your cloak to be warmer.” Smee informed him that a shorn head was de rigeur for a thrall, but that no one would fuss if it grew out.

“Thank you.” Killian paused as he pulled on the trousers. They’d clearly been made for a smaller man, so they were a bit snug, though not uncomfortable. He pulled on the linen tunics, marveling at how much softer they were than the wool robes he was accustomed to. As a lad he’d worn such garments, but he hadn’t since entering the monastery. All his clothing had been fashioned out of wool or leather. “Smee, are you a thrall as well?”

The other man guffawed. “No. I’m a free man, have been all my life. In addition to being a _skald_ , I’m the jarl’s man.”

“You’re...Lady Emma’s man?” Part of Killian couldn’t believe that such a radiant creature was tied to this small, unassuming man.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, but the other man took it in stride. In fact, he laughed harder. “Not like that! It means I do whatever tasks or errands need doing. A steward of sorts, you might say.”

“Oh. That’s a position of some honor.”

“That it is. And now it’s my honor to drag you back to the house. I don’t want to miss a moment of the festivities.”

\---

By the time the feast began a few hours later, Killian was beyond ready for his meal. He’d been conscripted to help move benches to the edges of the room and to carry large platters of steaming foods, some of which he’d rarely encountered before.

Eventually, Smee joined him again, showing him to his place on the benches. As his duties had not yet been addressed and were beyond the scope of what servants usually did, he was allowed to sit and enjoy himself. Smee also told him his place around the fire for sleeping. While most of the residents of the house slept openly around the fire, there was a private sleeping closet for the jarl. Proximity to the fire was an indicator of social status.

The other man quickly handed Killian a small knife and a spoon. “Lady Emma was a touch iffy about giving a knife to a foreigner when you’ve not yet won her trust, but you do need things for eating.”

“My thanks, master Smee. Will you be regaling us with songs and tales soon?”

“Aye, but only after we eat and have done some drinking first. August over there is the real skald here. And Lady Emma will of course have to say some words, but that’ll happen before the feasting.”

Under other circumstances, Killian was sure he’d hang on every word from the golden-haired beauty’s lips. His growling stomach, however, complained at the realization that it would be longer before he was fed.

Smee laughed, “Don’t you worry, Lady Emma isn’t one for big speeches.”

He quieted as Emma approached the dais. She had clearly changed out of her practical, everyday clothing that she’d been wearing earlier. Over her linen shift, she wore a richly embroidered red dress trimmed in tablet braid. Amber beads glistened in the firelight, and two golden brooches held her dress together. A wool belt accentuated a small waist. Killian did his best not to stare too much, trying to focus on her words instead.

“I’m so glad to welcome back our brave warriors who’ve brought honor to our people with their exploits. We celebrate you all with this feast. Odin has blessed us in battle and Sif has blessed the earth, and we are grateful. May we drink deep of the mead tonight and may our stomachs always be full.”

A chorus of cheers broke out as soon as Emma was done speaking, and she gestured for the food to be served. Several kinds of fish, many different kinds of seasoned root vegetables, roast deer, and honey cakes were served, and Killian smiled in contentment as he ate. Flagons of mead and wine were passed around, and laughter erupted as people drank happily. He even found himself humming along to the inebriated songs the men and women were singing.

Killian recognized the man moving to the front as one of the warriors who had been present at the raid. He hadn’t been a bad sort, and he’d been kind enough on the voyage. _August, that was his name_. Smee had mentioned he was some sort of bard. He introduced the story he was going to begin when Killian felt the bench shift as someone joined him there. Looking over, he saw the tall blonde who had been talking to Emma earlier.

“I’m Elsa.”

He bowed his head. “I’m Killian, my lady.”

She smiled kindly. “It’s good to meet you. I hear you’re to be our blacksmith?” When he nodded, she continued, “Excellent. Well, Emma sent me over. I’ve brought you a fur to sleep on and a wool blanket. You’ll be more comfortable this way.”

“Thank you, Lady Elsa. You are too generous.” He hoped she could see his sincerity in his smile.

“Not at all. You are one of us now, if you choose to be. Oh, Emma will meet with you the day after tomorrow to discuss the specifics of your duties.” Elsa didn’t seem to require a response, and she rose gracefully from the bench, wandering back to the bench at the front of the room where Emma was sitting.

Killian found himself enjoying August’s story. It was rather ribald, but entertaining. The man’s voice could certainly carry.

_I bid thee be wary_

_But be not fearful_

_Beware most with ale…_

_Or another man’s wife!_

At that, many of the men in the hall raised drinking horns and cheered uproariously. The women shook their heads, and August tried to motion to everyone to quiet down again. Killian’s attention was drawn away as Anton approached him. The two men exchanged pleasantries, Tiny checking to make sure he was getting settled in and enjoying the feast.

“You look like you’re having a nice time.”

“I am. I’m glad to see you here, though.”

“Familiar faces are always good.”

“That they are,” Killian agreed, drinking more of the wine from the cup he’d been provided.

“Are you going to dance when that starts?” Anton joked.

Killian snorted. “Dancing is not exactly something monks do.”

“Oh, right. I don’t suppose you’d have done much dancing.” Tiny took a long drink of mead from his horn.

“Indeed. I’m afraid it would be a fearsome sight.” Drinking more wine, Killian gestured to the drinking horn. “How would I get my hands on one of those?”

“Usually by hunting the animal they come from. But I’m sure you’ll be able to trade for one once you’re working.”

Killian considered this before turning their conversation back to the gaiety around them. He and Tiny stayed there chatting for a few more hours until the evening started winding down. While there were still some drinking and singing, others were starting to shoo them outside so that sleep would be possible. Killian yawned. Sleep wasn’t a bad idea at all.

Tiny had wandered off to sleep closer to the fire. Taking the fur and blanket Elsa had given him, he tried to make himself comfortable. He was sure he’d fall asleep quickly, tired as he was by the eventful day and the alcohol warming his body, but he struggled to drift off. After a time, he took to tossing and turning as he tried to ignore the sounds of couples’ passion. Feeling uncomfortable hearing their moans and skin slapping together, Killian instead tried to focus on some of the Scriptures that typically brought him comfort. Instead, his mind kept turning back to Elsa’s words about choosing to be one of them. _Now there was a thought_ , he mused as he looked in the direction of Emma’s separate sleeping closet. Sleepily amused at the idea of him ever being one of them — a Viking — he finally nodded off.

\---

Killian woke the next morning just a couple hours after the sun rose. He was relieved to find himself free of headaches or queasy stomach, and after stepping outside to take care of his business he returned inside to try to find some sustenance. The hall was still rather quiet, so he took some of the bread and meat left from the previous night. He wandered outside, finding a tree to sit under. He could see a field and grazing area from here, as well as some of the outbuildings. He was so busy surveying his surroundings that he didn’t notice the approach of the small boy.

“What are you looking at?”

Killian started, nearly losing his grip on the bread. He recognized the boy as Lady Emma’s son, the heir to the jarldom. He looked to be about ten years of age, and was staring back at him with frank, curious brown eyes. “Uh, good morning, lad. I simply thought I’d come enjoy the sun and quiet while I break my fast. I wouldn’t want to wake anyone after a late night.”

The boy nodded. “Yeah, most of them will probably be hurting today.”

“Er, so...what are you doing up so early?” He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to this boy who was now his liege.

“Oh, I saw you walking out here and I followed you. My mother says you’re from another land to the southwest of here, and Tiny told me there aren’t any women where you’re from. Have you ever seen a woman before you were brought here?”

Killian snorted. “I’ve seen a few. I wasn’t born at the monastery. I lived in a town with people of all sorts until I was just a little older than you, actually.”

“What’s a monastery?” Henry looked confused.

“It’s a secluded place where people of my faith go to devote themselves to God. It’s usually for men. We’re called monks. There are ones for women only, and those are called ‘convents’. The women who live there are nuns.”

“Oh. So how do you get more monks, if there aren’t any women? And how do they get more nuns without men?”

Killian nearly choked on the tisane he’d brought out. “Er, typically both men and women who take the holy orders are second sons or daughters, or sometimes orphans.”

“That would work, I guess. What do you all do all day?”

Killian started to recount the busy schedule of monastic life, and Henry peppered him with questions. The lad seemed interested in all the written tales kept, as most runes here were used more for either paying homage to one’s predecessors or for invoking the gods. He was in the middle of a tale of Dál Riata when Emma emerged from the longhouse calling for Henry.

She caught sight of the two of them sitting under the shade of the tree, and she fixed an inscrutable look on him. “Henry, it’s almost time for your lessons.”

“Moooooom,” Henry tried to complain.

Feeling like he’d made some awkward misstep, Killian interjected, “Henry hasn’t been a bother at all. He’s been telling me of some of your customs and asking about those of my people.”

Emma paused, then nodded. “Very well, but he has lessons now. And you should enjoy your day of rest before tomorrow.”

He murmured his assent, watching as mother and son walked off.

\---

The following day, Killian found himself trailing after Emma as she led him to the stone outbuilding housing the smithy. She had seen to it that they both had breakfast, and then she’d demanded that he go with her. He had no complaints, he thought as he endeavored to wake up more fully.

Stepping inside the building, he found it very similar to the one on Iona. Get a fire going in the forge and he could definitely see himself working happily here…

“I trust  everything is to your satisfaction?” Emma asked huffily.

“Aye, my lady,” he paused, not sure how she would react to his request,“but I will require some  tools.” He tried to defer to her, hoping she’d look at him with a bit more trust than she seemed to be showing at the moment.

“You can use the tools Bjorn left. You will let me or Smee know if you run out of iron, and we’ll get it for you. We’ll also tell you what needs to be done every day. You’ll mostly be working on things we use frequently around here, though you may occasionally be asked to assist in repairing the ships or making weapons.”

Killian nodded. “Certainly, as long as someone can show me what parts are supposed to look like if I’m not familiar with them.” He wasn’t thrilled about helping potentially create weapons that could be used against his people, but he could cross that bridge when he came to it.

Emma waved her hand, indicating that his request was agreeable. “You’ll be training Thorbald. He’s young, but interested in the trade. Making sure there’s an apprentice is important.” She took a breath before touching his arm lightly. “Killian, servitude doesn’t have to be forever. With this kind of work, it shouldn’t take you long before you’re able to buy your freedom. I can’t see you being a thrall for more than a year.”

“And what then, my lady?”

She tilted her head at him. “Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” Emma seemed contemplative, even solicitous at the moment. He couldn’t find it in him to complain.

“I suppose it is.”

Realizing her hand was still on his forearm, she pulled back. The moment of openness seemed to be over; her eyes again grew difficult to read. “And in the meantime, until you’ve proved yourself trustworthy, someone will be here to monitor you. We can’t have you near all these dangerous tools if you’re going to use them against us.”

He managed not to roll his eyes. “Certainly, my lady. I hope no one is too inconvenienced.”

“It will likely be Smee or me. Today is rather busy for me, so I’m going to go get him now.”

Killian nodded his understanding.

She turned back before exiting. “I give you my word as a shieldmaiden and as protector of this land that if you harm so much as a hair on anyone’s head, especially Henry’s, that I will make the remainder of your short existence painful beyond the telling. Do I make myself clear?”

“Aye, my lady.” Killian was quite frankly a bit terrified by her threats that she was all too willing to carry out. But to his confusion, he also found himself more than a little attracted to her. As soon as Emma left the heat of the smithy, he reached down to adjust himself through his trousers.

He sighed. His mind may not be settled about what he wanted or was expected of him , but his body definitely had some firm ideas. He couldn’t deny his attraction to Emma. It had been so long since he’d experienced lustful thoughts and his body’s reaction to them, and Killian wasn’t sure what this meant. Monks weren’t supposed to be drawn to anyone in that way. But was he really a monk anymore? Could he maintain his faith in this place, when everything seemed to pull him in another direction?

\---

Dinner was a welcome relief after a hard day’s work. Smee had come to him with instructions to work on horseshoes and hinges, as they were clearly attempting to gauge his skill at the forge. He’d clearly been impressed. Killian had requested leather trousers and a leather apron for smithing, as they would be less likely to suffer at the hands of the heat and fire. The man had agreed, promising to introduce him to the tanner on the morrow.

The cool ale in his cup was refreshing and a fitting accompaniment to the fish stew and bread they were eating. His eyes were unfailingly drawn to where Emma sat at another table, laughing with a red-haired woman named Ariel as they talked about some childhood scrape she and Elsa had gotten into.

Elsa herself came over to where Killian was sitting and poured more ale into his cup, smirking as she did so. “If you keep staring over there with your mouth open, your food will spill out of your mouth. It’ll be very unseemly, and Emma will find it disgusting. You’ll ruin any chance you might have.”

Killian turned to her, dumbfounded. “What?” He was certain his face was red with embarrassment.

She rolled her eyes. “You heard me.”

Running a hand over his shorn head, he stammered, “I-I couldn’t… I’m not-”

“Relax, Killian. I’m just teasing you. But so you know — if you’re a good man, then there’s nothing wrong with admiring Emma. Or with her admiring you.”

“Does she…” He let his question trail off, unsure of what he would do with the answer, no matter what it was.

Elsa patted him on the arm sympathetically, joining him for another ale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Skald_ : A bard
> 
> The verse August recites is from the Poetic Edda.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian adjusts to life among the Norse. He may even get his first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! Thanks to Odette for beta'ing.

_October 795_

Killian paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. In spite of the chill in the air, the forge was warm from the fire that had been going since the morning. The leather of his trousers clung to his legs, and the wool shirt he was wearing was nearly drenched in sweat. The leather apron covering the rest of his clothing was smudged and dirty, but he was nearly done with the parts necessary to repair _Odin’s Jewel_ , the second of Emma’s longships. The ship had been out of commission since a spring storm had crippled it during a small raid. Killian had since learned it was the _Swan_ , the larger and slower of the two ships belonging to the jarldom, that had brought him to this land.

He ran a hand through his hair. It had grown out enough over the last couple of months to keep his head warm, though it had yet to get as cold as he had expected. Tiny had laughed when Killian had hesitantly asked why the land hadn’t become the tundra of his imagination. It seemed that the western coast wasn’t as prone to snow and extreme temperatures the way it was a couple hours inland or farther north. Not that Killian had any complaints.

Well, no complaints about the weather, at any rate.

Other than his servitude, there wasn’t anything expressly wrong with his life. He had food, clothing, a roof over his head. But it was hard not having time to be on his own, and to be surrounded by reminders both subtle and blatant that he owed his existence to God.

Killian could pray at the forge. Really, he could pray whenever he wanted as long as it didn’t interfere with his work. And in many ways, Killian felt that doing his best at his work at the forge was its own kind of reverence, a type of prayer in itself. God received glory from work done diligently and honestly. No, that wasn’t the issue

The issue was that he was fairly _happy_. There were definitely aspects of his life he didn’t care for, but no more so than when he’d been on Iona, surrounded by his brethren. Not only that, everyone around him seemed reasonably content. He’d always been told, had always believed, that without God, man was miserable. But unless everyone he’d met in Emma’s jarldom was remarkably deceitful, that was clearly not the case. People here loved, laughed, fought, and cried. (And fucked – he’d gotten so used to hearing the sounds of lovemaking at night that it no longer kept him from sleep.) At the core, the lives of the Norse were the same as those of the Christian folk he’d grown up with.

No one hassled him about his faith, either. In fact, Killian had been able to use an old nail he’d found, melt it down, and fashion it into a cross that he wore on a length of leather around his neck. He’d been concerned that Emma would think he was misusing supplies, but all she’d done was stare at where the pendant lay on his chest for a few moments, an odd look on her face.

_Emma_. There was a whole other set of problems Killian didn’t like to dwell on…much. It had taken about a month for him to win enough of her trust that he was allowed to work in the smithy by himself. He hadn’t minded the company during that time – it was usually Smee, or even better, Emma herself. He had somehow managed to work efficiently even when the latter was there, the small building filled with the dueling scents of hot metal, sweat, and the intoxicating blend of spices and rose he associated with the jarl.

She had begun talking to him, opening up to him. She had claimed that it was the sheer boredom of sitting around watching him work, but Killian had complete faith in Emma’s ability to be obstinately silent if that was what she wanted to do. When he’d awkwardly teased her about it the first time, she had sputtered at him, “You could be the enemy. You know I can’t take my eyes off you.” Her eyes were dancing, belying her harsh words.

And so Killian had responded in the only way that seemed appropriate. “I would despair if you did.”

It had been his first ever attempt at flirtation, and if the darkening of her eyes was any indication, he hadn’t done too badly. She had brushed him off, but there had been a string of days after where she had been the one monitoring him. There had been laughter during his breaks, and confessions of a young marriage that had quickly turned troubled. He’d told her about his brother, about the comfort he’d found in the monotony of life at the abbey.

When he’d been busy at work, shirt clinging to his back as he swung the hammer over whatever he was fixing, he’d felt her eyes on him. Once, he’d stopped suddenly and turned, and he’d been met with a glazed look. Then she’d realized he was staring back, a brow raised quizzically. Emma had blushed and turned away, hurriedly telling him she was sure he could manage just fine on his own. She fled, and the next day Smee told Killian he’d been cleared to work without Norse supervision. “You’re as good as one of us,” the other man had said.

But was he? Had his life changed that dramatically in just a little over two months? Killian still spent the majority of his days at the forge, and his other time spent in prayer or conversation with friends. For some of them had become friends – Tiny, Smee, and even reserved Elsa. Instead of communal time with his fellow monks, he spent time teaching Henry and a few other interested souls how to read and write in his script. Emma had showed him the Norse Runes, explaining their use and that they were thought to have magical properties. On the surface, the rhythms of his life were very much the same. But something within Killian ached at the differences. The looks he got sometimes when he prayed or sang one of the songs he’d learned at the abbey. The children running around, heedless of their parents’ admonishments to calm down. But most of all, he ached for Emma. He was half convinced he could live on her laughter, and her kind words melted him. Killian knew her compassion well, the touch of her hand when she’d learned he hadn’t seen his brother in twenty years burning his arm. Her honey-colored hair blowing in the wind, green eyes afire with delight (or anger, depending on the day and recipient of the look) – they moved him to poetry.

Fortunately, Killian had refrained from such _skaldic_ overtures, at least aloud. But he longed with desire for her. Desire and fear, because for the first time in his life…he could open his heart to a woman, this woman. She was definitely his better, but even in the short time he’d been here, he’d heard stranger tales than that of a thrall and noblewoman. He was certain Emma would never think of him that way, but for the first time, it was a possibility. The possibilities of his new life were equal parts frightening and exhilarating.

—

A few days later, Killian found himself bored at the smithy. Realizing there wasn’t much for him to do at the forge, he went off to find Henry. The lad was usually excited for more lessons in languages and writing, and Killian enjoyed spending time with him.

Leaving the forge, Killian went off in search of the younger man. He walked past the longhouse into a clearing, finding Henry play-fighting with another boy using sticks as their swords.

The boys halted their game as Killian approached. Henry called out to him. “Hey, Killian! Do you want to play with us? There are plenty of sticks here that you can use!”

“Oh, I’m not sure, lad-”

“Come on, Killian!” The other boy (whom he believed was named Nikolas) joined Henry in trying to get him to join in.

He heaved a playful sigh. “Very well, but don’t complain if I beat y-arghhh!”

Both the boys had turned on him as soon as he’d agreed to play, laughing as they lightly whacked his sides. Killian grinned and shouted, “Bad form, lads, fighting a man when he’s misplaced his sword!” He ran away from them and picked up the first stick he found. Finding one that suited his purposes, he whirled in an attempt to fight off his youthful attackers. The wood of his stick met another “sword” much more quickly than he’d anticipated, and he found his face just a few inches from Emma’s.

She stared back, a hint of a challenge in her eyes. Emma smiled and said, “You should really only take on adults, Killian.”

He lowered the stick he was holding. “Alas, my lady, your son and his friend were proving more than worthy as opponents. They might have defeated me had the fight gone on.” Killian winked at her.

The two boys snickered, and unnoticed by either of the adults, scurried off back in the direction of the longhouse.

She raised her eyebrow at his momentary forwardness, and he blushed in response. She too lowered her makeshift weapon, shaking her head a little. “Do you not know how to fight?”

“I’m afraid not. I learned some when I was a lad, but I was only eleven when I was taken to the monastery. And they focused on peace and learning rather than knowledge of the sword.”

Emma looked at him appraisingly. “Would you like to learn?”

Killian cocked his head at her. “I suppose it would be beneficial to be able to defend myself or any of the young ones.” He gulped as he stepped back from the woman in front of him. “Will you teach me?”

The smile she fastened on him was one he would have called predatory had he been able to identify it. “Certainly. We can start now.”

Not wanting his inevitable humiliation to be witnessed by Henry and Nikolas, he was about to protest when he realized the boys had left. Having no other recourse, he nodded. Killian picked up the stick again and turned to face Emma.

She shook her head at him. “No, the first thing we’ll have to work on is your stance.” She walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his, making small adjustments. Emma nudged his knees with her own to move them into the right place, causing him to lean back into her slightly. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

Killian caught his breath. He could feel Emma’s breasts pressing into his back through the layers of their clothes, and he prayed his voice wouldn’t crack when he responded. Licking his lips nervously as he turned to face her, he nodded shortly. “Aye,” he whispered.

Emma’s gaze drifted down to his lips. She bit her lower lip, leaning her face closer to his-

And suddenly, the sound of loud, clattering metal reached them, and they jumped apart. Smee popped his head out from the hut they used as an armory. “Sorry, Lady Emma, Killian.” He sheepishly emerged. “Accidentally knocked over some of the shields. I’ll put them right again.”

Emma blushed and stepped away, leaving Killian bereft at the loss of her warmth. “Good. And Smee? Will you see about making sure Killian learns some of the basics of swordplay? I think August would be a good teacher.”

Killian watched as Emma all but ran away from the scene. He turned to Smee, who was grinning at him roguishly. “Sorry, man. I can definitely see that she wanted to teach you how to use your…sword.”

Killian pelted Smee with grass as ducked back into the hut, laughing merrily.

—

A couple weeks later, Killian was sitting on one of the benches after the evening meal enjoying the pleasant ache in his muscles, the ache that came from hard work and exertion. While it was primarily August who was helping him improve his swordsmanship and fighting technique, Emma had stopped by to watch earlier. And she hadn’t laughed when he’d slipped. He hadn’t made a fool of himself at all – in fact, he was fairly certain he’d seen something like admiration in her eyes. Apparently, his work as a blacksmith used a lot of the same muscles and movements as required for working with a sword.

The wood of the bench creaked and he started as Ariel sat down beside him. Killian had met her and chatted briefly with her before, but she had certainly never sought him out. She most definitely had never approached him in the evening with a flagon of ale. “Er, thank you, my lady.”

Ariel laughed. “Oh, no need to thank me. You just looked so tired after a long day of work.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Then how can I help you?”

“I can think of a few ways,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. Killian knew that was innuendo, but he was unable to think of a response. He rather felt as though he’d been rendered mute by the unexpected nature of Ariel’s aggressive come on.

“Lass, I’m not sure wha- hrrrngh!”

Ariel had put her arms around his neck and yanked him toward her, pulling his lips to hers forcefully. He realized he had squawked, but it seemed an appropriate reaction to suddenly being kissed by a woman you’d scarcely spoken with.

Finally managing to grab hold of her shoulders, Killian tightened his grip and pushed her back. “Ariel, what…” His attention was suddenly drawn to a point behind the redhead when he saw Emma standing about ten feet away, gaping at him.

Her eyes were blazing with something resembling fury. Emma closed her mouth and moved to sweep out of the longhouse, train of her dress sweeping along emphatically. Her subjects leapt out of her way and let her pass.

Killian made to stand, but he felt a cool hand pushing him back into place. He looked up and met Elsa’s eyes. Amusement and sympathy warred for domination of her expression, and she patted his shoulder.

“Killian, I promise you that no good will come of you following her right now. Believe me,” Elsa intoned dramatically. As soon as he lowered himself back onto the bench, she walked away.

Ariel sighed and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, gods, I’m so embarrassed.”

“There, there,” Killian patted her. “I’m quite embarrassed myself.” He let the silence between them continue a moment longer before clearing his throat, “Er, why did you kiss me? I just say that since we hardly know each other, and it didn’t seem like something you were interested in before…”

She groaned. “I’m not, really. Oh, I’m sorry. You’re a kind, attractive man, and I just- the man I love has been distant lately. I wanted to distract myself and show him that other men could be drawn to me. I hadn’t seen you with anyone, so I assumed you were free…then I just saw the way you looked at Emma, and if her quick exit is any indication, she must feel something for you, and-”

“Lass, take a deep breath. You’re working yourself into a panic.” Killian tried to beat down the hope rising in his chest at Ariel’s words, especially since any feelings Emma might have had for him were likely ruined now. He glanced around the room and found Ariel’s suitor glaring at him. “Besides, I definitely think your Eric has noticed.”

She listened, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Killian.”

He nodded. “It’s all right. My first kiss could have been worse.”

Ariel faced him, horror on her face. “That was your first kiss? Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. You deserved to have that moment with someone you care about.”

“Lass, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“What about Emma, though?”

“She seems upset, but hopefully she’ll cool down?” Killian was sure that would have sounded more authoritative had he not ended up phrasing it as a question. Ariel shrugged at him, and both of them sighed plaintively.

—

The next morning, Killian trudged into the smithy early. He hadn’t slept well, but hopefully a day of hard work would take his mind off his troubles. He threw himself into finishing up a sword one of the men had commissioned. After a couple hours, he paused to let the sword sit before he sharpened and polished it. He could use a break.

Killian nearly jumped out of his skin when Emma burst in – loudly. She yelled, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What? I mean, my lady, what do you-”

Emma cut him off angrily. “You could hurt someone with this _sword_ you’re making. And how do any of us know that you’re not intentionally making a shoddy sword so that we’ll all get hurt? Besides, this could be taking time away from the things I asked you to do, and I’m the one who’s in charge.”

Given that Emma _had_ been the one to okay him working on the sword in question, Killian was rather flummoxed. Then it suddenly dawned on him as he looked down into her angry, jade eyes that the sword likely wasn’t the source of her ire. “I’m sorry, my lady. Is there anything I can do to make this right?”

“I’ll tell you what you can make right, you ass!” She was so caught up in reprimanding him that she didn’t notice that she had grabbed the blade of the sword in question. It hadn’t been sharpened, but it could still wound. Emma grunted and looked down at her hand. She had cut it, and both watched as the red of her blood started to well up and run.

Killian winced and sprang into action. Reaching for one of the cloths he kept nearby to clean up emergencies, he started to wrap it around her hand. He held her elbow steady with one hand and wrapped the makeshift bandage around her hand with the other. When he was nearly done, he tried to tighten it, but found himself short a hand. Improvising, he pulled the end tighter with his teeth, meeting her eyes as he did so.

Emma drew in a gasp, looking down at him where he was fussing over her hand. He held her arm a moment longer, staring back at her. He was utterly transfixed.

Breaking out of their stupor, Emma’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, Killian. The sword is fine. It’s obviously satisfactory, and I was out of line.”

“And I’m sorry if I’ve given you any reason to doubt the quality of my work or my behavior, my lady.”

“Killian, please. Call me Emma,” she paused and moved to the doorway, poised to exit. “And thank you. For taking care of my hand.”

He smiled. “Any time, Emma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Skaldic_ : Pertaining to _skalds_ , or bards


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Winter solstice, an inappropriate sighting, and a good night's sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a while! Hopefully I'm past my writer's block, though. I'd love to hear what you all think of the chapter.
> 
> This is where things start to heat up and earn that M rating...

_December 795_

Killian sighed as he walked toward the bath house. It was officially too cold to bathe in the river, and he had gotten used to bathing after a hot, sweaty day at the forge. Today was no exception. He was tired to the bone after all the work he’d done.

He smiled, though, thinking of his chat with Emma the previous evening. Ever since the kiss fiasco a couple months before, they’d tentatively begun spending more time together. They’d taken to drinking a bit of ale and talking about the day, their thoughts on happenings around the jarldom, and occasionally secrets from their pasts. He recalled their conversation last night when she had confided that he was near to earning his freedom. His hard work hadn’t been for naught.

Killian had just finished telling her about the joists he’d completed that day. Emma looked at him warmly as he recounted the events of the day. She said, “I finished looking at the accounts and going through the stores today. We’ll be able to have an excellent feast over the solstice.”

“That’s wonderful, lass. I’m glad that things are going well. And I’ll look forward to the feast, though I’ll strive for moderation myself.”

She laughed and smacked his arm lightly. “That’s not what feasts are for, silly man.”

He grinned at her. “Ah, but we’ll see who’s silly come the morning after the feast.”

Shaking her head, Emma continued, “But that’s not the only exciting thing I learned from the accounts.”

“Oh?”

“You can be freed, Killian. As the new year begins. All the work you’ve done, the ways you’ve helped us...it’s added up.”

His joy at liberty was tempered by something he couldn’t identify. “But I’ve not been here six months!”

“I know. But here we value our blacksmiths. And you’ve done good work.”

“What will I do? I can’t go home for many months.”

Emma stilled. “You don’t have to leave at all. There’s a place for you here, and Thorbald isn’t nearly ready to take over yet.”

Killian glanced at her questioningly. “I wouldn’t...be in the way?”

“Never,” she said.

Seeing Emma’s serious expression, her eyes glowing as she looked at him, Killian allowed himself to hope.

Killian shook his head as he walked into the bath house. He knew from experience that thinking about Emma in the warmth and solitude of this place led to potentially embarrassing situations. Removing his clothing, he stepped down into the warmth of the water, letting it soothe the aches in his muscles. He sat peacefully for a few minutes before stepping out to clean himself with the soap. Running his soap-slick hands over his chest, he scrubbed at himself.

He found his mind drifting toward Emma again, the light that had danced in her eyes as they had talked last night (and the last fifty nights, for that matter), the golden hair that escaped from the headdress holding it back, the curve of her breasts under the layers of her dress. Without being conscious of it, his hand drifted downward to wrap around his half-hard cock. Silently apologizing to God for what he was about to do, he stroked himself a couple of times, imagining it was Emma who had kissed him, that they had ended up naked in the furs…

Soon he found himself harder than he’d ever been. He began stroking himself faster, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He was so close, almost-

Killian’s ascent into rapture ended abruptly at the feminine gasp that met his ears. To his horror, his cock twitched, refusing to soften when he met Emma’s eyes. Her gaze lowered to his groin, and he looked around frantically for something to cover himself. She shook her head. Moving to meet his eyes again, she licked her lips. Killian could swear that was desire, but he tried to put that out of his mind.

Emma cleared her throat. “Er, I’ll be going. Let you, um, do your thing. I can bathe later.” She whirled around and left the bath house.

Killian’s face was hot with embarrassment. He finally felt the hardness of his cock fading and he hurriedly rinsed the remaining suds away. He threw on the spare change of clothes he had and buried his face in his hands. How could he face Emma after this?

\---

He had kept his head bowed while he ate dinner, too embarrassed to make eye contact with anyone. Once the bowls had been taken to be cleaned, Killian finally made his way over to where Emma sat with Elsa. He listened to their conversation (something about the wool from this year’s shearing being remarkably good) for a couple of minutes before clearing his throat. Judging by the red staining Emma’s cheeks and the smirk on Elsa’s face, the events from earlier in the bath house had definitely been discussed.

Killian just knew his entire body was blushing. Nevertheless, he ploughed ahead. “Emma, I’ve come to apologize for my behavior earlier.”

“I’ll take this as my cue to leave,” said Elsa. She slinked into the shadows of the longhouse, a grin still pulling at her lips.

Emma motioned for him to join her in sitting at her bench, and he did so. They had yet to meet each other’s eyes. She broke the silence. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Killian.”

“My lady, my behavior was completely inappropriate, and I’m ashamed that so fine a woman as you bore witness to it.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, from what I could see,” she muttered.

Killian’s mouth fell open in surprise. She may have intended for that to be under her breath, but he’d definitely heard. They looked each other in the eye for the first time since she’d seen him naked and hard as a rock. (He prayed she never learned it was thoughts of her that had made him that way.) His mouth twitched, and soon they were both giggling. She motioned a servant over with some ale, and she poured them both generous tankards before speaking again.

“Seriously, Killian. It was more than fine.” He raised an eyebrow mischievously, and she shook her head at him faux-reprovingly. “Gods, there is no way to say this that isn’t awkward or full of innuendo, is there?”

“There doesn’t seem to be, no,” he replied.

“What I mean is that I don’t hold your very human act against you. And honestly, I didn’t mind the view.” It was her turn to waggle her eyebrows at him, and he couldn’t help but blush again. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Besides, I need to apologize too.”

“Whatever for, love?”

Emma said, “For watching you and not leaving immediately, when you were clearly, er, uncomfortable.”

Killian snorted. “Uncomfortable isn’t the word I’d use. But honestly, lass, it’s fine.”

She looked all for the world like she had a flirtatious reply ready, but instead she just smiled. “Good. I was hoping you’d help me tomorrow with some of the preparations for the feast. We need to start preparing the food so that it’ll all be ready in time.”

“Surely it won’t take that long?”

“Well, we’re roasting a whole cow and pig, and those take time. I could use those muscles that I now know you have.” The impertinent woman winked at him.

He elbowed her lightly in the side at her jest, agreeing to help her out on the morrow in any way she wished.

\---

The following day, Killian didn’t even fire up the forge. Instead, he spent the morning with Henry and a few of the other youths, giving them a brief lesson in writing. He even showed them a couple of tricks he’d seen used in illumination. After the noontime meal, he and August followed Emma to the storehouse.

They worked together in the cold building to pull the cow and pig down from the meat hooks holding them up. Emma made sure that neither he nor August nicked themselves on the sharp iron, as infection from such wounds was often fatal. One of the hooks broke as they were extracting it, and Killian put it aside to fix later. They carried the beasts to the pit set up for the purpose of roasting them and congratulated themselves on a job well done.

Over the next day, Killian walked past several times, the aroma of the cooking meat making his mouth water. He felt a different kind of hunger when he saw Emma’s attire for the feast -- the woolen overdress was dyed a rich blue, and it was lovely over the linen shift that dipped low to reveal generous cleavage. Most striking though, was the red belt embroidered in gold and black thread that had been cinched tightly to accentuate her small waist.

Tiny had arrived the morning of the feast, and he and Killian had spent the majority of the afternoon traipsing around the nearby woods and catching up. When they headed back to the longhouse, the feast was ready to begin.

If anything, these festivities seemed even more raucous than those that had taken place when Killian had arrived. Not that he was complaining. He was far more comfortable here now than he had been then--he had friends, the respect of people he cared about more every day, and maybe even the attentions of a beautiful woman.

The woman in question was laughing gaily at one of August’s stories. Killian pushed down the twinge of envy he felt, focusing instead on the happiness in her face. Her eyes were bright, and the color in her cheeks was high from consuming a healthy portion of mead. She was gorgeous, he thought wistfully.

Unlike the last feast, though, he wasn’t allowed to be left to his own devices for long. Elsa was sitting next to Tiny on a bench and motioned him over. He walked there, making sure to bring a flagon of mead with him for their consumption. They watched as various people began dancing together (including Ariel and Eric, which made Killian smile). Anton and Elsa were teasing him about his clear infatuation with the jarl when she approached, looking back and forth between the smirking duo and an embarrassed Killian. He perked up, sure that he wouldn’t be needled in her presence. Then Tiny asked Elsa to dance, and he gave Killian a pointed look as soon as Elsa accepted.

Emma stared at him expectantly until he cleared his throat. “I’d ask you to dance, but I’m afraid I don’t know how, my lady.”

She looked at him warmly. “All you need is a partner who knows what they’re doing. And fortunately for you, I do.”

Killian held out his hand to her, leading her to the open area where other couples were enthusiastically dancing. The music, provided by a singing August and Smee (a few other began to chime in with different stringed and wind instruments), slowed to a gentler tempo. Emma smiled at him and guided one hand to her waist, as they swayed and twirled together. Killian managed to not trip, and he thought he was doing fairly well. When it came time for him to pull Emma close, he told her as much.

She nodded. “You’re a natural, Killian.”

He could only grin happily at her. He chanced to pull her closer, and his heart leapt when she tucked herself into him even further. She tilted her face up so that it was just inches away from his. Killian darted his eyes down to Emma’s lips, parted in anticipation.

Then the song abruptly ended. He and Emma let out twin expletives and pulled apart. Killian was beginning to think they were cursed. Or at the very least, someone had it out for them. He suspected the latter might be the case, given the mischievous looks August and Smee were exchanging. He walked her back to the edge of the room. She grabbed another flagon of mead from a passing servant with a nod of thanks.

“I enjoyed our dance,” she said.

“Thank you for granting me that boon, Emma.”

“Anytime.” She touched his arm gently, and he placed a hand over hers.

Elsa and Tiny joined them again, and the four spent a pleasant time talking about the evening and laughing at some of the more ribald stories being told by the skalds. Killian switched to watered down ale, hoping to stave off a hangover. Emma showed no such restraint, giggling as she chatted with the various residents of the jarldom.

Killian expressed his concern to Elsa, but she waved it aside. “Today is one of the few days she gets to let loose. Let her have this. Besides, I don’t think it’s my duty to look out for her any longer.”

“What do you mean, Lady Elsa?”

The pale blond gave him a bittersweet smile. “Ever since you arrived, Emma hasn’t needed me or wanted me. Not like before.”

Killian stared at her dumbfounded. “Before?” he asked innocently.

“We were lovers, Killian. At least, we provided each other comfort and a degree of joy.”

He really didn’t know what to say, but he felt he should try. “You love her.”

She looked at him with teary eyes, but smiled. “I do. Which is why I know the best thing for me to do is to let her go so she can pursue the future she desires.”

“And you think that has something to do with me? If it doesn’t pain you to speak of it.”

“You’re my friend too. I want both of you to be happy, and any fool could see that you two are drawn to each other,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

“I...I’m sorry, Elsa.”

“No, you’re not. And you don’t need to be.” On that note, she stood to make her way to her furs. The party was winding down, and Elsa seemed keen on sleep. “Take care of her, Killian.”

After Elsa walked away, Killian searched for Emma in the room. She was sitting on a bench, passing a flagon back and forth with Smee. He made his way over to the two, who beamed at him as he approached.

“There’s the Killy!” shouted Smee. He was shushed by a number of people from their beds, but he merely collapsed in giggles.

Emma was snorting at the smaller man, and she started to tip over. Killian caught her, and she flashed him a brilliant (if drunken) smile. “Mmm. Pretty man saved me from fallin’ over.”

Bemused, Killian quirked an eyebrow at her. “Pretty, eh? Well, it’s high time this pretty man puts you in your bed. That way you and Mr. Smee can both sleep this off.”

She dutifully wrapped her arms around him, and he lifted her. Killian’s heart pounded at her proximity. He nearly came undone when she nuzzled his neck. God, he was a fool for this woman. He looked to Smee, who’d already begun snoring quietly where he lay half on the bench. Killian shook his head and carried Emma to her private sleeping area. Laying her gently on the bed, he looked around at his surroundings. He’d never been in this part of the longhouse, but his heart warmed as he spotted Emma’s cubbies full of her little treasures and keepsakes. Turning back to her, he pulled off her shoes and then tucked the blankets and furs over her. Brushing her hair out of her face, he moved to leave the room to find his own rest.

Before he could take the step that would lead him away from her, Killian felt Emma’s hand tugging at his wrist.

Her eyes were glassy from drink and sleepiness, but she was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. She dragged her hand against his softly and threaded their fingers. “Stay?”

“I- that is, I’m not sure…”

“You don’t have to, and I understand if-”

Killian cut her off by sitting on the bed and removing his boots and swinging his legs under the covers. She had sounded so vulnerable and pleading, and heaven knew he couldn’t resist her. He only hoped she wouldn’t regret asking him to stay in the morning.

At his unspoken assent, Emma made a contented noise in her throat, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder, quickly nodding off. Killian was sure sleep wouldn’t visit him that night, and he tried to think of anything but the feminine form pressed against him. He would hardly take advantage of the woman he was falling in love with--his thoughts halted abruptly as he realized how deep his feelings for her had grown. It hit him like a lightning bolt, but what should have been a startling epiphany calmed him--for he knew he would give Emma whatever she asked for, whatever she needed from him. And right now, that happened to be a shoulder to use as a pillow.

Finally relaxing, Killian pulled Emma closer to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The warmth of the furs and his love beside him had his eyes struggling to remain open, and he succumbed to slumber’s call.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers and other headaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the long wait on this chapter. Life stuff, writer's block...eek. But hopefully no such lulls will happen again.
> 
> And a HUGE thank you to my beta, Odette, for helping me clean up this chapter. I was so rusty, but she really helped get it ready. And also to andypandy, whose reviews made me squeal and gave me back some of the enthusiasm I'd lost. 
> 
> Of course, thank you to all of you reading, commenting and leaving kudos! <3

Killian stretched, finally stirring to wakefulness. He was remarkably warm, more so than usual at this time of year. But there was something tickling his nose. Turning to confront whatever was in his face, he found himself staring at the back of Emma’s head. The previous night’s events came rushing back to him, and Killian smiled contentedly.

Emma shifted against him, and Killian bit back a groan. While he enjoyed the sensation of holding her in his arms, one part of him was enjoying it a little too much. He tried to pull back a little, but she just snuggled closer.

“Emma?” Killian whispered. “Are you awake?”

She just snorted before turning in his arms and burrowing her face into his chest.

Killian shook with silent laughter even as he swallowed the chuckle threatening to erupt from his throat.

“What’re you laughing at?” Emma mumbled. “Ow, my head.”

He smirked down at her and ran a gentle hand down her back. “Well, you did drink a fair amount, lass. And I was laughing at your lack of willingness to face the world.”

“‘S'early.”

“And how do you know that? There are no windows in here.”

“The hall is still quiet, and quiet is good.” She extracted her arms from where they’d been pressed between the two of them and pulled Killian closer.

He gasped as Emma brushed against his erection, which hadn’t abated in the least. Embarrassed, he tried to pull away. But Emma didn’t let him distance himself, keeping her arm firmly around his waist. (She really was shockingly strong.) Instead, she nuzzled the part of his chest bared by where his tunic had slipped down.

Emma finally looked up at him. “Is this okay?”

Killian cleared his throat. “Yes, love.”

“I should thank you for staying last night,” she said flirtatiously.

He knew he was bright red, and he fought the urge to scratch at his ear. Instead, he lightly caressed Emma’s back. “It sounds like you just did.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not what I meant, Killian.”

“Oh, er, what did you mean?”

“This,” she whispered. Emma rose onto one elbow, trailing her other hand over his shoulder and down his chest. He couldn’t help but feel breathless as he met her green, green eyes. Somehow, he summoned the courage to run his fingers through her hair. She moved close, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

He caught his breath, hoping she couldn’t hear how quickly his heart was beating. Killian turned his head slightly, catching her lips with his own.

At first, the kiss remained rather chaste. Killian pulled away, hoping to confirm that Emma was  amenable to continuing this course of action. What he found in her eyes filled him with hope -- he saw desire, want...and affection. She raked her nails along his chest and neck before burying her fingers in his short hair and pulling his lips back to hers.

This kiss, while equally gentle, lasted longer before Emma pulled back, lightly nipping his bottom lip as she did so. Killian didn’t hesitate this time, chasing her lips and kissing her fiercely. Emma ran her tongue along his lip as she rocked her hips into his. Killian gasped at the sensations, suddenly robbed of his ability to think straight.

Emma took advantage of his surprise to push him onto his back and lean over him, once more pressing her lips to his. This time, he opened his mouth to her tongue, allowing his to tangle with hers. He’d never known such pleasure could come from kissing.

Emma began rolling her hips into his, bringing her clothed core in contact with his arousal. He ran his hand down her back to cup her ass and pull her closer, meeting her motions with his own. She trailed kisses along his stubble-covered jawline until she reached a spot just below his ear. Killian moaned as Emma sucked gently at that spot and he bucked into her in response. She gave an answering groan of pleasure. “Killian,” she whispered, voice low and husky with need.

He was about to pull her back to him when a knock interrupted their proceedings. He let out a groan--this time one of frustration.

It seemed he wasn’t alone in not being thrilled. Emma growled, “What? Who is it?”

Smee’s apologetic tones carried through the wooden wall. “Uh, sorry, Lady Emma. I hate to interrupt, but a Lord Walsh is here? He says he’s come on an important diplomatic mission.”

Emma sat up, still straddling Killian. “Fine, see him and any with him in,” she yelled curtly. She winced, the volume of her own voice clearly rekindling her headache.

Killian pushed himself up so that he was half-seated with Emma on top of him. While his cock twitched once more, he could feel his arousal fading. Their interlude was clearly over, and Emma’s duties as jarl beckoned.

She smiled down at him apologetically, and he couldn’t help but grin a little at her lips, swollen from his kisses.

“Is my hair a wreck? As much fun as this was, I’d rather not advertise to guests exactly what we were up to.”

He sat up entirely and smoothed her hair, hoping she didn’t notice the frown spreading across his face.

She reached up to cup his face. “Killian, what’s wrong?”

“Do you not want anyone to know about this, Emma?”

“No! I don’t care if anyone from here knows. Hell, I expect they all do already, considering...it would just be awkward for that to be the first impression a guest gets...of either of us.”

“Ah, well, we should get up and make ourselves presentable then.” Killian couldn’t quite meet Emma’s eyes as she pulled away from him to stand up.

She touched his arm. “Killian…”

He stared down at her hand before softening and covering it with his own. “Yes, love?”

“Just...be patient, okay?” Emma was staring at him hopefully.

One corner of Killian’s mouth quirked in a small smile. “Aye, I can do that.”

\---

Killian took the time to straighten his clothes and hair. Emma had asked him to wait a few minutes before coming out of the small room to give her time to greet the guests. He had actually counted the moments until he could emerge, but he was twitchy and fidgety, ready to leave the small room. Without Emma’s presence there, he felt like an interloper.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open. Attempting to quietly make his way to his usual sleeping area so he could change his clothing, he caught the eye of one of the guests. The man’s dark eyes followed him as he exited Emma’s bedchamber. The man raised an eyebrow at him, then dropped his eyes to Killian’s neck. Killian raised an eyebrow back.

The man looked familiar. But where would he have-

_ Oh. _

That man, that guest...he was the man who had almost killed Killian. All those months ago at the monastery in Iona, this man had laughed at killing Killian’s fellow monks and threatened to plunge his sword into Killian. But for the grace of God (and Anton’s timely intervention), Killian would have died at this man’s hands.

And now this monster of a man was a guest in Emma’s house.

Killian stalked over to his belongings and switched out his embroidered tunic for the rougher one he wore at the forge. He grabbed his leather trousers, fully intending to carry them to change into at his smithy. He was hardly going to drop his trousers in front of someone who’d proven himself to be an enemy. Or in front of Emma while she was smiling at that brute.

He was ready to storm over to the forge, when Emma motioned for him to come over. He clenched his jaw and made his way over to her. He tried to keep his distance, but she closed the gap between them and grabbed his forearm.

“...I’d like to introduce you to Killian, our blacksmith. I hear you’re partially responsible for bringing him here,” Emma smiled at him, even as she directed her words to the guest. “And Killian, this is Lord Walsh. He’s come as an envoy from Jarl Rumplestiltskin and the Lady Zelena.”

Walsh cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed. Lady Zelena and the Jarl Rumplestiltskin have been unbelievably kind, and I’m glad they can rely on me so much. And I see you’ve had some use for the thrall we brought back.” His eyes darted to Killian and gave him a dismissive once-over.

Killian knew his jaw would hurt later from how tightly he was holding it. He merely bowed his head slightly, if a little mockingly. “I am here at the Lady Emma’s  _ pleasure _ .”

Emma coughed. When Killian glanced over at her, he could see how red she was. She dug her nails into his arm, and he tried not to wince.

Walsh’s eyes glinted a bit maliciously. “It’s good you know your place...Kelvin, was it?”

“It’s Killian,” he gritted out.

Walsh waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, no matter. My Lady Emma, I am indeed here on behalf of my betters on a diplomatic mission. It is their opinion—and mine—that our jarldoms would be drawn closer together through a more intimate relationship. Which is why I’m here. To pay court to you and convince you to marry me.”

Killian’s jaw dropped, and Emma’s hand fell from his arm. He turned to look at her. He saw the surprise on her face and was relieved until Emma turned to him quickly. “Killian, would you mind giving me some time alone with our guests?”

He jerked his head in an approximation of a nod and stomped off to the forge.

\---

Back in the forge, Killian donned his leather trousers. While not exactly fuming, he had plenty of energy to work off today. If only he could calm his racing mind.

Emma had sent him away. After their night together. While he knew a few kisses didn’t give him any claim over her, it had seemed like it was more than just a few kisses. Perhaps it wasn’t, though.

The thought gave Killian no comfort. He hurried to stoke the fire and busy himself.

For reasons he didn’t quite understand, Emma had distanced herself from him after their interlude. Killian had no idea what her real reaction had been to Walsh and his intentions. He wanted to believe she had no interest, but right now he was confused. Not to mention hurt and angry.

Walsh had killed men he lived with and respected, men he considered his brothers. Furthermore, the man had been partially responsible for dragging him from his home and the life that he loved. For making him a thrall. Killian knew he wasn’t treated that way or even really thought of as anything less than a full member of the community here, but…he was. He wouldn’t have come here by his choice. Certainly, he was making the best of it, and there were definite perks. But it should have been something he chose. And when it came down to it, he had no rights beyond those that Emma gave him. He was at her mercy. While she was a good, compassionate woman, he could have just as easily ended up somewhere that treated him cruelly.

Realizing the extent of Emma’s power over him was a bit unnerving. She treated him like an equal and a friend, and he was undeniably attracted to her. But if she told him to do something, he had no choice but to do it. No choice beyond that which she gave him, anyway. Which was really just an illusory kind of free will.

Killian knew he loved Emma. More than he could have fathomed, even if he had just realized it last night. No matter what happened with Walsh, and regardless of any epiphanies he had about free will and power. He wanted to make her life brighter, her life journey easier. He would gladly spend a lifetime talking to her every evening, making her smile, helping with her son. He was glad to be part of their lives, though the way it had been accomplished was less than ideal. It was worth it, because he loved her.

But was that enough? For the first time, Killian doubted it. He would always be less than Emma. He’d never have her rank, the approval of all her peers. Elsa and the other residents of this place liked him and never treated him as an inferior, but no one had blinked an eye at the way Walsh had treated him. Even after he was freed, he would never be a suitable match for a jarl.

He didn’t need power over Emma or any rubbish like that. But he had a sneaking suspicion that he and Emma would only ultimately both be satisfied in a relationship between equals.

A relationship that Killian had no hope of ever having with her. 


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma deals with Walsh, and Killian has big decisions to make.

Dinner that evening was a solemn affair for Killian. Most of the staff had scurried off to prepare a meal that was fit for their guests, using what was left from last night’s feast. With a number of the residents still recovering from the previous night’s drinking, the hall was rather quiet. And Killian sat alone.

Elsa passed by on her way to the front of the room where she supped at a table with Emma and Lord Walsh. She squeezed his shoulder sympathetically as she walked past. Killian said nothing, but nodded at her.

Emma didn’t approach him after the meal was over for their usual chat. Instead, she chatted with their guests. While she didn’t look at Walsh flirtatiously (as far as he could tell), she certainly didn’t look bored.

Killian shuffled off to his own bed rather morosely. Doing his best to drown out the sounds of people still talking and enjoying their evenings, he closed his eyes. He fell asleep remarkably quickly in his exhaustion, never noticing Emma’s or Walsh’s eyes on him.

—

Killian went to the forge early the next morning, sneaking out after grabbing a few things to eat once he got to the smithy. If he could just minimize his time spent in the longhouse, he’d be fine, he thought dully.

He threw himself into work that day, anxious to take his mind off everything else. Good, hard work was a balm for the soul, one of his fellow monks had once told him. If only he had remembered that – and to give all his love to God alone – he might not be in this mess. Angry that the work wasn’t distracting enough, Killian growled in annoyance as he put the iron he was working with back into the fire.

He had finally drifted into a more peaceful state of mind when he saw a flash of color at the entrance to the smithy.

Of course it was Emma, because the universe seemed to delight in tormenting him lately.

She came in hesitantly. Even in his current unsettled state, he couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked in her green frock, a few golden curls escaping her headdress. “Can we talk?”

“If you wish, my lady,” Killian replied mechanically.

Emma winced. “Back to ‘my lady’? I had hoped we were past that.”

Killian turned back to the forge, using the bellow to fan the dwindling flames. “I’ve hoped for a good many things that shan’t be.”

“Killian…”

Suddenly, he was just _tired_. Weary of the mess his life had become, exhausted by trying to navigate a different path than the one he’d been on for almost two decades. “What, Emma? I’m assuming you’re not just here for small talk.”

She took a deep breath before speaking quickly. “I’m not going to do it, you know. Marry Walsh, that is. I just need to find a way to tell him that.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. “Then why the farce?” He paused before continuing quickly, “Not that it matters to me.”

“Doesn’t it matter? At all?” Her voice sounded small and uncertain.

He sighed. “Of course it does. _You_ matter to me,” he admitted, scratching behind his ear, “but is that even important?”

She stiffened. “Of course it does. I hope you don’t think so little of me that you think I’d neglect the well-being and opinions of any of my people, let alone one I’ve shared…something…with.”

“But I’m not one of your people.”

“Is that what this is about?! I’ve tried to make you feel welcome here. You have friends, people who care about you. I thought–hoped–you knew I consider myself both.”

Killian glanced over at her crossed arms and annoyed face. A rush of irritation coursed through him and his nostrils flared. “You bloody well haven’t been treating me like it.”

“What the hell does that mean?” The vulnerability she had been displaying just moments before had vanished in the face of her outrage.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “You all but shoved me away and told me to leave yesterday morning. You know full well I don’t have much experience, but even I know rushing away from the person you shared a bed with is not a good thing. A dismissal, even.”

Emma mirrored his deep breath. “It wasn’t like that at all. And I can’t do this right now. You know why Walsh is here to marry me? Because Rumplestiltskin sent him. So he can at the very least get an eye on what’s going on. Even more than that, he’d like to make sure he has a hand in running this place. Not getting married again is how I’ve managed to maintain this jarldom, to run it until Henry is of an age to do so. Rumplestiltskin is more powerful than I am, and I can’t risk offending him by telling his puppet of an emissary to leave. No matter how much I might want to.” She paused, “As much as I might to just…explore…what we have, I have responsibilities. To Henry, to my people…”

Killian’s shoulders slumped. “But not to me,” he whispered.

She looked away before she spoke, “I–it’s not the same. I have a responsibility to you as my  dependent, as a person who lives in the jarldom. But I can’t let my feelings for you cloud my judgment.”

“Cloud your–oh, never mind. Emma, I’ve told you that my father was a chieftain. So I can try to understand that, I really can. But I’m not sure we can have anything if you consider me your dependent. I’m here as a thrall. You’re a jarl. Perhaps it is too much of a distance, no matter the regard we bear for each other.”

“Is that what you want?” Her voice had gone quiet, and he could tell she was fighting tears.

“You’ve made it clear that it’s not about what we want.”

She turned away, bracing herself against one of the wooden support beams. “For the record, Killian, I think of you as my equal in all the ways that matter.”

He snorted.

Emma continued, “I mean it. Look, technically, I don’t have a social equal. I’m the daughter of a jarl and the mother of another. I was even married to one. But as far as people I can talk to and be with…you’ve become more of a friend and partner in a few months than anyone else ever has. Even Elsa.”

Killian let out the breath he’d been holding. He had no idea how to respond. He only felt defeated.

“And Killian?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“You’re free. Officially, as of right now. I’ll announce it at the feast in a couple of days. Then…you can go where you want or stay here. It’s up to you.” Emma walked away briskly, leaving him leaning against his workbench.

Killian only wished he knew what he wanted to do next.

—

Killian stood at the front of the longhouse a few days later. All of the proper rituals had been observed; he was now a free man. He was technically a guest of honor at this feast along with Walsh, a fact that would have made him snort with amusement had he not been so unsettled.

He was glad that he was free. Beyond glad.

He just had no clue what to do now.

He tried to meet Emma’s eyes across the table, but she was politely laughing at something Walsh said. He could easily see that it was a courtesy laugh, but it still stung a little.

Henry tugged his sleeve, and Killian managed to paste on a smile to talk to the boy. “You can’t leave, you know.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow at him. “How do you figure that, lad?” He had to hold back a genuine smile at the obstinate look on Henry’s face.

“As a freedman, you still have to have the permission of the jarl to move away. And I’m a jarl, and I say you can’t go.”

“Henry…”

“It’s just…we’d miss you here. And you make my mother smile, even though I know you two had a fight the other day. But I’ve never seen her smile so much since you got here.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I like it here, and I love spending time with you and your mother both. And Tiny and Elsa and Smee. But your mother told me I can go. She may want me to go, even.”

Henry just looked upset.

“And it now occurs to me that it’s probably wildly inappropriate to have this conversation with you instead of her.”

The answering snort confirmed his suspicion.

“Just…give me some time to talk to Emma and figure things out. I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep.”

“It’s a deal, Killian.”

—

Killian awoke the next morning with a pounding head. The special ceremonial ale prepared in honor of his freedom was incredibly potent, and after his chat with Henry he’d consumed a fair amount more. He knew the only thing to help get rid of his headache and cottony mouth would be a brisk walk down to the frigid stream for a bracing drink of water. He grabbed his new drinking horn (a gift from Anton) and tried to make his way out as silently as possible not to wake the still-slumbering revelers from the previous night.

He was beyond grateful the stream hadn’t frozen over. While he was a bit cold after drinking the fresh, glacial water, he did feel better. In fact, he could probably make his way back and get some more sleep.

Killian was on the far side of little armory when he heard two voices he wasn’t particularly keen on hearing.

Emma was speaking quietly. “-I’m sorry, Walsh. It was kind of you to come out and press your suit, but I’m afraid I have to turn you down.”

The man’s voice grated on Killian’s nerves. “May I ask why, when it would be such a beneficial match? Both your father-in-law and Lady Zelena approve.”

There was a momentary pause in the conversation, and Killian took the time to conceal himself. He was fully committed to eavesdropping at this point, but he could at least try for subtlety.

“While their approval would be a boon, it isn’t necessary for me. I have successfully run this jarldom and will continue to do so until Henry can. I don’t want a new marriage to distract me from my duties to my people, a sentiment I’m sure both Lord Rumplestiltskin and Lady Zelena share,” Emma said diplomatically. “Besides, you should find a younger woman who can give you many sons.”

“So it has nothing to do with your newly freed blacksmith boytoy?”

Killian clenched his fist and held back a snort of derision at the man’s gall. But he had full faith in Emma’s ability to handle this situation. In fact, it would go far better if he didn’t involve himself any further.

“What are you implying? That my judgment might be impaired because of my feelings?” While Killian recognized that dangerous tone, Walsh clearly did not.

“That’s exactly what I’m implying. Zelena told me you were an arrogant bitch, but she didn’t say anything about you spreading your legs for every pretty face you see.”

The sound of a loud slap echoed through the stillness of the clear morning.

“You stupid fucking cow! How dare you…you’ll get what you deserve.” The sound of a scuffle broke out, and Killian emerged from behind the small building to see Walsh pulling out a wicked looking dagger.

Emma yelled loudly, trying to rouse someone else. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on me. If you stop now, I’ll allow you to leave this land unharmed–ARGH!”

Walsh had sliced her arm, and Emma’s blood began seeping from her wound. Far from deterring her, it clearly made her angrier and more eager to fight. She managed to grab hold of his wrists with her hands and pulled him close, head-butting him hard enough he fell to the ground.

Killian wasn’t sure what he should do. Emma knew more about swordplay and fighting than he did–she was a shieldmaiden, for god’s sake, and he was afraid that calling out in any way might prove a distraction. He had just made up his mind to fetch Smee when he heard Walsh scream in agony.

Emma landed a solid kick to the man’s genitals. Killian held back a cheer, especially when it turned to a curse a moment later. Walsh had used the ruse of being curled up in pain to reach for his dagger again, and he swung his leg behind Emma’s knee to knock her over. He loomed over her, holding the knife to her throat.

It took Killian a moment, but he ran over to them, ready to pull Walsh off her, even at the expense of his own life or well-being.

But then Emma twisted quickly and elbowed Walsh in the neck, hard. While the man was gasping for air, she pried the dagger from his hands. She plunged it between his ribs, and time stood still.

In the moment it took for Walsh to collapse on top of Emma, Killian registered the sounds of other people exclaiming. The noises of the fight had drawn them out, and he saw the shock on the faces of the onlookers.

It was nothing to Emma’s pale face streaked with blood, sweat, and dirt. Killian ran over to her and heaved Walsh off of her. Emma grabbed at him, and he pulled her into his arms. She buried her head in his shoulder, and he could feel her starting to shake.

Walsh lay a few feet away, blood gurgling in his throat as he tried to speak one last time. “You…bitch…should have…” His eyes rolled back in his head as he convulsed once more before going still.

—

“Emma, love, are you alright?” Killian was worried. It had been almost twelve hours since Walsh had died. Smee and August had hurried to remove Walsh and deal with his body, and Elsa had rushed toward Emma.

Emma had clung to him, not even letting go when Elsa tried to talk her into a bath. So the three of them had walked into the bath house and taken Emma into the water fully clothed, and he and Elsa had taken turns cleaning her. She was eerily quiet, not even stirring when they got back to Emma’s sleeping chamber and placed her in the bed and bandaged her arm.

Killian had stepped out to allow them to get Emma changed and to talk to Smee about the ramifications of Walsh’s death, since he was the only one other than Emma who had seen the whole thing. It felt like it had been hours since he had held her in his arms.

So he quietly entered Emma’s room, bearing a bowl of stew and a chalice. He repeated, “Emma?”

She was curled up on her side, facing away from the door. His question seemed to sink in, and she stirred a little. She rose up and looked at him, face red and swollen.

Killian’s heart melted when her face crumpled. He set the things in his hands down and sat next to her, embracing her gently.

“No, I’m definitely not fine,” she whimpered. “I’m a shieldmaiden, I’ve done this before–I–this was just different, somehow.”

“It was in your own home,” he said softly, rubbing light circles on her back.

Emma sniffled into his neck. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know exactly what to do, but I brought you stew and my own favorite remedy for when I’m upset.”

She grabbed the chalice and drank deeply before choking. “What is this, Killian?”

“Warm goat’s milk. It seemed like a better idea at the time than wine or ale.”

Emma’s watery chuckle went far in reassuring him she would eventually be fine. “For future reference, wine is probably the best bet.”

Killian grasped one of her hands and brushed a kiss over the knuckles. “Well, lass, let me get you some wine, and then I’ll leave you to your rest.” He managed to stand up before he felt her tugging at his fingertips.

“Wait–will you stay?”

He paused and turned back to her, unsure of what she was asking him.

“I don’t just mean the night here, though I would like that. Please, Killian. Please don’t leave. Stay here and make this your home?”

She looked up at him plaintively and pressed tender kisses to his palm, and he was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

Killian sank back down. “Aye, I can do that.”


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something entirely new happens for Killian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you to all my readers for your patience! I'm excited for this chapter. You may have noticed the rating change, which is deliberate.
> 
> And as always, a huge thank you to Odette for betaing for me.

It hadn’t been that long since Killian had woken with Emma in his arms, but as soon as he drifted to wakefulness he gave a quick prayer of thanks. This...this was even better than before. This time, there was no worry about alcohol having clouded anyone’s judgment, no need to rush to get up. He and Emma may not have settled everything between them the previous night, but he knew she wanted him here. And he wanted to be here too, more than he could express.

 

As Killian pondered what came next, Emma stirred. Killian kissed her smooth cheek that was flushed from sleep.

A small smile spread across her face. Emma blinked slowly, finally opening her eyes. She wrapped her arm’s around Killian’s waist. She was visibly relieved to see him there beside her.

“How did you sleep, love?”

“Mmm. Much better than I expected, really. Thank you for staying,” she whispered a little shyly.

He smiled back at her. “Emma, it’s not a problem. Ever. I mean what I said last night.”

“So did I. Especially the part about you staying here...permanently.”

Killian was relieved that her words hadn’t been due to her grief and immediate need, but rather a true desire for him to be there with her.

“Then I will. You mean so much to me. You and Henry both. To say nothing of the friends I’ve made...”

Emma pulled him close in a tight embrace. “I’m glad.”

They stayed in each other’s arms, dozing until they heard a light knock on the door. It was Elsa, Henry in tow. They were carrying a tray, complete with stew, bread, and ale. Killian hadn’t realized how hungry he was until his stomach grumbled loudly, Emma’s echoing it. Elsa shook her head at them, and Henry smirked.

Elsa’s face turned serious. “How are you doing after yesterday’s ordeal, Emma?”

She shrugged. “Better than last night. I know there’s a lot to do and talk about, but I was hoping to…” She trailed off, glancing at Killian before giving Elsa a significant look.

Killian felt his ears turning red. He could be imagining things or misconstruing what she was implying, but he was fairly certain he knew what she meant.

Henry kept his mind from wandering to places that would lead to potential embarrassment in front of this small group. “Are you going to be sleeping here now, Killian? Are you and my mom courting?”

Emma coughed on her ale, and Killian absent-mindedly patted her on the back, raising an eyebrow.

“What your mother and I become or are doing is as much up to her as it is to me, so you’ll have to take that up with her.”

Emma’s cheeks turned pink, but she took Killian’s hand and smiled at him. She turned back to Henry.

“I think...that’s something he and I need to discuss before we talk to you.”

“Fine, fine...I’ll go while you all talk about ‘grown-up’ things,” Henry said, the twinkle in his eye belying his sullen response.

Henry left, Elsa following after him quickly. Not before a quick wink at Killian, though.

He ran his hand through his hair nervously. “So…”

Emma cut him off before he could start rambling. “I want you. I want to see what we have together. If you do.”

“I definitely do!” Killian knew he sounded far too eager, but he could hardly help it. “But, Emma, I’m just a blacksmith. And you’re...so much more.”

She turned to face him and took his hands in hers. “But you’re so much more too. You’re smart and kind and loyal. You care for me and Henry so much. You make me laugh. That means more than I can say.”

“Is that enough for you?”

“I think...you’re exactly what I need. And who I want beside me. It’s what I want to find out, if you’re willing. Is that enough for _you_?”

He squeezed her hands and leaned his forehead against hers. “Aye. You’ll always be enough.”

Emma pressed a light kiss to his lips and pulled away smiling. “Good. There’s more we should talk about, but first I have to get you something.” She stood and moved away from the bed, digging in a basket in the corner. She pulled something small out, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. Turning back to him, she held out her hand. An iron pendant, delicately worked to form Thor’s hammer sat there.

Killian tilted his head at her inquiringly. “What is this?”

“It’s a symbol given to all blacksmiths as a sign of Thor’s favor and care. As a symbol of how valuable you are to the community.”

He stood and walked over until he stood just a few inches away from her. He took the pendant from her and raised an eyebrow. “Valuable to the community? Is that why you want to keep me around?” He tried to fight the smile tugging at his mouth as he teased her, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

Since her response was a roll of the eyes, he assumed he didn’t fool her. She plucked the pendant from his fingers and placed it onto the same leather strand around his neck that held the cross he had made. “There. Now you have a symbol of your old life and your new one with you.”

“I think I’m very interested in hearing about this new life.”

“Hmm. It involves being a good blacksmith, a contributing member of society...and pleasing your jarl.” She closed the distance between them to wrap her arms around his neck.

Burying his head in her neck, he whispered hoarsely, “And what would please my lady jarl?” Placing feather-light kisses to her neck, he trailed one hand down the curve of her spine until he reached the small of her back. Killian pulled her close, showing her how her presence and flirting were affecting him.

She ran one hand down his chest and still further down to cup him gently through his trousers.

He bit back a moan of pleasure, but rocked into her hand.

“What I want, Killian, is…” she paused dramatically, “...for you to take a bath.” She smiled up at him guilelessly, only her mischievous eyes giving away her teasing.

He blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Really, Emma? A bath?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m sorry, but yes. You haven’t bathed in a few days, and as much as I care about you and look forward to taking the physical side of things farther with you, I would prefer to do so with a clean, less fragrant you.” Emma shrugged apologetically.

Killian couldn’t help it—he laughed. “I see how it is,” he quipped lightly, “Tell a girl you’ll do anything for her and she starts demanding daily baths. What’s next, a trimmed beard?” He grinned at her and attempted a wink.

She rolled her eyes again, this time playfully pushing him towards the door.

\----

Killian had only spent a few hours at the forge today, but it was nearing the hour of their evening meal. And before that, he had an errand to attend to. He smiled as he walked into the bath house. He had his change of clothes, though hopefully he wouldn’t be wearing them long, if his and Emma’s conversation was any indication.

 _Emma_. He fought back a lovelorn sigh, even if the accompanying grin was irrepressible.

He set his clothing down and pulled off his tunic. Halfway through unlacing his trousers, he heard an audible squeak.

Looking around for the source of the sound, Killian found the woman who had been on his mind. Emma stared back at him, her eyes wide. She had clearly been about to indulge in a bath of her own. He tried to avoid letting his gaze wander, but with her naked body in view...his mouth was agape and his mind went blank. His blood ran south.

Emma seemed to recognize his struggle. She smiled at him, mercifully holding back a laugh. Her smile wasn’t just amused—Killian recognized happiness and desire, too.

She finally broke the silence that had been building, the tension between them rising. “Oh, Killian, just come over here and kiss me.”

Less than a second later, she was in his arms, his tongue tracing over her lips. She opened to him, tongue tangling with his as she ran her hands up his back, grasping at his shoulders to pull him closer. Killian was rapidly becoming unsure of where she ended and he began.

He bucked against her, pressing his arousal into her core. Killian tangled one hand in her hair while the other grasped her ass. Killian became incapable of any further thought as Emma wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked them over to lean against the wall, thrusting his clothed erection against her clit.

She echoed his moan. Trailing one hand down his abdomen, Emma grasped him through his trousers before beginning to unlace him. As soon as she freed him, she took him in hand.

Killian hissed, the pleasure of her touch driving him mad.  He moved his hands to cup her breasts, running his thumbs over her hardened nipples. He kissed his way down her neck, over her clavicle, until he pulled one of the stiff peaks into his mouth. He sucked hard for a moment until he heard her wince. “Sorry, love, did I hurt you?”

“Just...be a little gentler.” Her smile softened the slight embarrassment he felt. She continued to stroke his cock, drawing him through her wet folds to brush against her clit.

“I can do that. Just tell me what do, Emma. I’ve never—this is the first time I’ve&-”

She cut his words off with a deep, passionate kiss. He was ready to press his way inside her when something inside him reminded him that as pleasurable as this was, this wasn’t how he wanted his first time to go.

Killian pulled back a little. “Wait, shouldn’t we do this in a bed?” He pressed light kisses onto her shoulder, unable to separate himself from her entirely.

Emma looked at him with hooded eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yes. We should wait for the main event until tonight, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with our bath right now.” Lowering her feet to the ground, she walked over the table and grabbed a couple of cloths. She crooked a finger at him to follow her into the deeper water.

He walked behind her, wrapping an arm around her hips as soon as they were waist-deep in the water. With his cock nestled between her ass cheeks, Killian reached for the soap and one of the cloths.

He ran the cloth over Emma quickly, his movements jerky. “You didn’t tell me you intended to take another bath today.”

She hummed, a soft noise of pleasure as he ran one between her legs to skim over her clit. Arching her back she pressed back into him. “I knew you’d be here and I wanted to surprise you. With a good surprise,” she clarified.

Killian smiled against her neck. He slid one finger inside her, and she gasped. “Is that okay?”

“Mmm, yes,” she moaned, grinding her backside into her erection.

He pulled his finger out and added another before thrusting them back into her, his palm pressing against her clit as he plunged his fingers in and out of her warmth. Finally he felt her walls tighten around his digits and her cry of pleasure ring out. She stiffened and then slumped back against him, and he ceased his ministrations.

After a few minutes, Emma pulled away from him. He let his fingers trail along her thigh under the water, and he felt her shudder as she turned to face him.

She kissed him lightly on the lips. “Now it’s your turn, Killian,” she whispered.

Emma washed his body quickly, though she ignored the part of him that most ached for her attention. His erection pressed into her stomach even as she reached her arms around him to scrub at his back.

She instructed him to duck his head under the water so she could wash it, and he hurried to oblige her. He sputtered a little as he emerged from the warmth of the water, but his sounds of protest quickly turned to moans of happiness as she ran her fingers through his hair, massaging gently at his scalp. The bliss of her tender ministrations, the intimacy of the act, made his heart clench with his love for her.

After he rinsed the soap out of his hair, Killian let Emma push him back onto one of the stone benches. Leaning over him, she finally wrapped one hand around his still-hard cock, stroking him quickly.

“Oh god, Emma, that feels so good,” he groaned. His heart skipped a beat when she began to trail kisses from the hollow of his neck down his chest. She laved her tongue over his nipples, following the path of dark hair down his abdomen. She sucked marks into the skin over his hipbones, her strokes over his arousal now slow and unhurried. He still had to refrain from thrusting into her fist.

Emma looked up at him impishly, then bent down and licked his shaft from root to tip. He let out a loud expletive as she gently pulled back the skin covering his head and lowered her mouth over it, swirling her tongue over the slit. Keeping her hand at the base of his cock, she sucked him into her mouth, bobbing her head over him.

 _God, her mouth. She's so beautiful, her mouth hot around me_ , Killian thought, vaguely aware of the praise he was babbling. He felt his balls tighten, and he tried to pull back from her.

She let him step back, though she kept her hand around him. “Killian, I want you to come for me now. You’ll last longer later if you do.”

He acquiesced, letting her pull him pack into her mouth. He tangled his hands in her hair as she renewed her rhythm. She held his hips in place as she let his cock hit the back of her throat, swallowing when she felt him there. It wasn’t much longer before he felt his spine tingling with the approach of his climax. Killian’s vision narrowed and he saw stars, and he emptied himself into her mouth with a noisy grunt.

When he came back to himself, he was slouched on the bench. Emma wiped the remains of his spendings from her face before settling herself in his lap. As boneless as he currently felt, Killian wrapped his arms around her. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and whispered his thanks for the pleasure she had given him.

“Anytime, my love,” she smirked at him.

\----

They walked hand-in-hand toward the longhouse, giving each other looks Killian was sure Henry would label “sappy” and “mooning”. He couldn’t be bothered though, and nor, it seemed could Emma. He pulled her close and skimmed his teeth over her ear lobe, noting her shudder with satisfaction.

“You’re so beautiful, Emma,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck.

She closed her eyes and leaned against his side. “I can’t wait for tonight, Killian.”

He was on the verge of replying when he saw Elsa emerge from the longhouse, arms crossed over chest.

Right, Emma’s former lover. He gulped uneasily as he saw the resolute set to Elsa’s jaw.

Emma looked between her friend and her current lover...and grinned. Stepping out from under Killian’s arm, she said, “Well, I should go make sure that all is ready for the evening meal.” She then proceeded to all but _skip_ inside the door.

Killian met Elsa’s eyes. From her posture, he had expected her eyes to be frosty and cold. Instead, he saw compassion, determination, and amusement.

“With Emma not having a parental figure here, I’m afraid I have to give you the talk, Killian.”

Grateful he was able to detect a hint of that amusement in her lilting tones, he gave a sigh of relief. “Very well. Though you should know I am familiar with the basics of copulation, having been around many men. And horses,” he snarked.

She snorted and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “That’s not what I mean, you silly man.”

He smiled at her, a genuine, sincere smile this time. “Have at it, then.”

“Please...don’t hurt Emma. Take care of her. She’s strong and capable of doing so herself, but she’s always had someone looking out for her. It’s been me for a long time, but I think that falls to you now.”

Killian gave her a look of concern when he heard the hitch in her voice. “I-Elsa, are you alright with this?”

“Does it matter if I’m not?” she asked practically. “But yes, I am. I’ll miss her, but I wasn’t her forever. And you two have been obvious from the day you arrived.”

“It matters to me. And you’ll always be important to her,” he paused before adding, “and to me.”

She placed a delicate hand on his forearm and gave it a quick squeeze. “I know. Anyway, Killian, if you hurt her, we’ll surely find some horrible way of hurting you,” she said glibly.

He affected a pout. “What if she hurts me?!”

Elsa grinned and teasingly mussed his hair. “Smee, Anton, and I will give her a good talking to. As your friend.”

He laughed and held his arm out for her to take, and they walked inside the longhouse, ready for dinner and the other new experiences the night would bring.  

\----

The meal was winding down after a pleasant evening, the household having mostly returned to normal after the excitement of the last week or so. Many of the residents were keeping a watchful eye on Emma, but their concern seemed to be coupled with smiles. And Killian was beginning to think they were giving him those same furtive smiles.

With the change in his station, he had been moved closer to the hearth—closer to Emma. Killian nearly fell off his new place on the bench when Anton elbowed him.

“Stop mooning so much, Killian. It’s making me nauseous.”

He looked over at his large friend, one brow raised. “Oh, please. One day you’ll find someone and I’ll be the one teasing you about it. Besides, she’s very worthy of mooning over.”

Tiny grinned back at him. “That she is, but what I don’t get is why she’s looking back at you like that.”

Killian turned his head and found Emma staring back at him longingly. It was just a short while longer before they could make their excuses and retire for the night…Then his friend’s words sank in. “Hey! I’ll have you know I am a very dashing blacksmith and plenty worth of admiration.”

“Keep telling yourself that, lover boy.”

He elbowed Anton, but no amount of teasing could possibly take the smile from his lips. A smile that only grew when he say Emma making her way over to him.

She carried two goblets of mead in her hands, and she handed one to him as soon as she reached him. Placing one hand on his shoulder, Emma said, “Killian, before I retire I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you. Privately. We should probably go to my room…”

Anton broke into a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Killian was too dumbstruck to make much note of Tiny’s amusement, but Emma glared at him.

Killian almost tripped in his attempt to stand. “Of course, my lady. Whatever you need.”

“I hope you two have a great night,” said Anton, winking at both of them as they left.

Emma rolled her eyes as she linked arms with Killian, guiding him to her room. As soon as the door was closed, she pressed him against it and kissed him deeply. She tasted of mead and cinnamon, and Killian was sure he’d never experienced anything sweeter.

She pulled away and set down their goblets and led him to the bed. They sat at its edge, and she broke the silence between them. “Sorry, I know I wasn’t exactly subtle out there. And I know now everyone will be talking about it…”

He wrapped an arm around her. “Love, it’s a small community. Everyone knows everyone’s business. It’s fine with me,” he paused. “Unless you’re embarrassed by it?”

“No, no, Killian! I mean, I am a little embarrassed, but that has nothing to do with _you_. It’s just everyone knowing exactly what we’ll be doing.”

Killian dragged his lips over her forehead and down to nibble the skin at the side of her neck. “And what is that, Emma?”

She ran her hand up his thigh. “I think you know.”

“Ah, my lass, I actually don’t. Which is why you’ll have to show me,” he teased.

Her eyes softened and she smiled. “I can do that. But first, I suggest you take off your tunic.”

Killian hurried to oblige, clumsily pulling off the the heavier wool top and the linen undertunic. In his enthusiastic haste, he hadn’t noticed Emma removing her own dress. When he turned back to the bed, she lay there in her thin linen shift. Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes hooded with desire as she patted the spot next to her.

“Should I take off my trousers?” he asked uncertainly, the clothing item in question having grown tight and uncomfortable.

Emma reached for his hand and he let her pull him down beside her. “Not yet. Besides, I want to do that.”

He hummed happily as he lay on his side facing her. He trailed his nails down her arm and over her hip before pulling her to him and kissing her lightly on her nose, her left cheek, her right cheek and finally her lips.

His tongue plundered her mouth, and he grasped at the fabric covering her. She moaned and let her hands tangle in his chest hair as they kissed. Killian felt the racing of his heart matched by her own, her tangible longing firing his own excitement.

Emma’s breasts strained against the fabric holding them in place, and Killian dragged his hand over them roughly. He rolled a little, pinning her underneath him. He fell between her thighs, his rock-hard arousal pressing against her core.

He tweaked her breasts as he pressed hard kisses along her jawline, sucking a mark just under her ear. She raised her hips, bucking up against him. Killian groaned when Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, her nails digging into his skin. As she scratched a line down his back, he hissed at the dual burst of pleasure and pain. He thrust his closed hips into her, and she rewarded him with a muttered, “Oh, Killian…”

She surprised him then, rolling them both so she sat astride him. Emma kissed him lightly and sat back a little, her nails tickling his stomach on her way to unlace him.

His cock leapt into her hand as soon as she released him, and she gave him a quick stroke before falling to the side so he could pull his trousers off. As soon as he’d done so, she straddled him again, rubbing her hot, wet core against his erection.

Killian ran his hands up her thighs under her shift, grasping her her buttocks and rutting against her. Emma trailed her fingertips down to the hem of her shift before gripping it and pulling the garment over her head.

Finally, they were bare before each other. Killian stared at her, awe and lust fighting for dominance. His hands wandered up her back, pulling her close for a kiss.

She sat up, but he pulled her back, capturing a nipple between his lips while he caressed the other lightly. Emma began undulating over him, his cock sliding between her lips to hit her clit. She gasped with each pass, meeting each upwards thrust of his hips gladly

Killian’s breath hitched when she grasped him firmly and lined him up at her entrance. Sinking down over him slowly, she keened loudly.

Emma was so damn tight around him, so wet and and wonderful. She sat still for a moment, waiting for him to regain his composure. As tempted as Killian was to grab her hips and thrust up into her, he was eager to see, _to feel_ , what she wanted.

“God, love, you’re so gorgeous. You feel so good around me.”

“Mmm, Killian, you’re so big, so good.” She raised herself and sank back down, finding a rhythm that had both of them gasping happily. Emma reached down between her legs to stroke her clit as she rode him, and he could feel her thighs trembling.

Killian hooked one of his elbows under her knee and thrust up into her. With a growl of want, he flipped them so that she was on her back. He slipped out of her, and she made a sound of protest. He lined himself up and thrust back inside, but the angle was a little off.

Emma winced. Killian felt himself turning red in embarrassment, but he was pulled out of his mortification by her soothing palm cupping his face. She brushed a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes and hugged him close. “You make me feel so good, Killian, so loved.”

“Oh, Emma, yes.” He pulled out of her and slid back in more easily this time, the angle one of pleasure and not pain. He sighed deeply and began thrusting in and out slowly. She hooked her legs around his waist and whimpered quietly.

It may have been minutes or seconds later, Killian wasn’t sure, when Emma kissed him and told him to move faster, to seek his pleasure. He thrust into her harder, his rhythm uneven. He could feel his climax approaching, his every nerve tingling with anticipation. With a moan, he spilled himself inside her, his release coating her walls.

Emma’s legs fell to the side of his hips. Her arms were still wrapped around him in a loose embrace, and she was trailing gentle kisses over his face.

When he finally recovered, he kissed her thoroughly, squeezing her tight against him before rolling off her.

“Sorry, love. I’m too heavy.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said. She tucked herself into his side, nuzzling his chest.

He hummed happily, grabbing her hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “That was...incredible.”

“It really was,” she sighed with contentment.

Still holding her hand, he turned to face her. “Was it? Good for you, I mean.”

She kissed him and smiled. “Yes. More than good. And just think, we can practice even more.” Emma’s roguish waggling of her brows made him laugh.

“I suppose what I’m asking is...well, earlier, in the baths, you seemed to find your own release. And you didn’t seem to just now.”

“Ok, Killian, it doesn’t happen every time. And besides...this was for you. Not to say that I didn’t enjoy myself, because I did. But you were the focus just now.”

“Are you sure, Emma?”

“Absolutely. Next time I can be the focus,” she giggled.

“Mmm, yes. That thing you did with your mouth earlier...I can do that for you, can’t I?”

Emma rolled so she was straddling one thing and looking down at him. “Yes, you can. And should.” She playfully bit his lower lip and tugged it toward her.

Ten minutes later, they pulled away from each other, breathing heavily. Killian laughed. “Easy, love. Much as it pains me to say, I’m not as young as I was and I’m not quite ready to go again.”

“ _I’m_ not ready to go again,” she said. “I’m tired and a little sore, and we should clean up a bit.”

He stood up and found a cloth, turning back to clean her. Killian preened a little when he realized she was staring at him appreciatively, but then he daubed the cloth along her skin.

“Thank you, Killian.” She smiled up at him.

“Would you like some of the mead?”

She laughed. “I made sure we had mead, given its reputation of providing energy and vitality. But I don’t think we’ll need it.”

He rubbed his nose against hers. “That we won’t.” Once he was done cleaning them both off, he sank back into her embrace.

Killian was halfway asleep when Emma spoke, sounding sleepy herself, “Mmm. We’re going to have to make sure we save some of your better ironwork for the Thing.”

“The Thing?”

“Yes, the Thing. All our peoples meet and discuss grievances and concerns. There’s feasting and celebration, too.”

He roused himself enough to speak. “Oh? And we have to go to this?”

Emma nodded, her eyes closed. “Mmhmm. It takes place every year, in the spring when the snows melt for our brethren who aren’t on the coast. We have to go this year, since we’ll probably have to pay a weregild for Walsh.”

“Even though he was the aggressor?”

“Well, we’ll tell our tale to the members of the Thing. But since Rumplestiltskin is the chief of it, I’m not sure we’ll find any favor,” she said. She was awake now, but her fingernails caressed his chest soothingly.

“That sounds...not pleasant,” he said, fully awake.

“It might not be. We’ll have to see. It’s also where we’ll find out about the plan for this year’s raid.”

Killian lay there, eyes wide. Raiding? Was he expected to take part now?

Emma nuzzled his shoulder. “Sleep, Killian. We have a few months.”

So he did as she said, wrapping his arms around her. They drifted to sleep, dreams of the evening’s pleasures driving any other thoughts out of their minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make the fic writing world go 'round. Help a girl out?

**Author's Note:**

> While I'm attempting to be as historically accurate as I can, some artistic license has been taken. Especially with the names!


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